Dear Diary...

I did another ad this weekend.  I told The Guar---ian what it felt like to become a millionaire fashion queen before I was a teenager.  I plugged my magazine and my trademark style (you know--cute but jarring, feminist but conservative, adult but babyish).  I felt great, right until the interviewer asked me whether I was a fake!  I guess people can't believe that a child is the intellectual equal of models and fashion designers.  I recited the usual spiel about obeying the man of the house, absorbing fairytales, and being yourself, and avoided the question.  But it got me worrying.  Am I fake?  
 

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