I never linked to this fabulously glowing post about yours' truly penned by the lovely and talented Laura Zigman. If I ever publish a book, perfect quotes!

The Girls are shouting with glee:
"Free at last, free at last. Thank God almighty we are free at last!"

He freed 'em on Thursday. Proclaiming them healed and good enough to go without nursing pads, non-stick gauze and paper tape.

"I can wear them without anything? Not even a bra?"

A bra if I wanted them to stay perky, perky, perky.

"So if I don't wear a bra they'll start to drop a little?" Bingo.

It feels so good. I feel like the good doctor wants to taxidermize my torso and hang it on his office wall, that's how good they look.

They are also perfectly in proportion to my body. A teeny-tiny smidgen 'smaller' than my prior ones. However, since the previous mamas had so much loose skin, these are in actuality not smaller, according to Dr. R.

Aside from the works of art now inhabiting my chest wall—compare that with the alien tennis balls taking up space there a mere 6 months ago—all in all the healing process is accelerating.

My body is finally starting to bounce back. The five days a week of cardio, two days of strength training and two days of yoga and Pilates, pushing that along. And the weather has been a gift from above—high 70s during the day, 60s at night and breezy.

Had a lovely time at the Vogue party Thursday night with Lisa, on the roof of the Gansevoort Hotel.



I debuted the bandage-free boobs—I was freezing my ass off in a sleeveless dress. (Lisa was of course perfectly attired in a slim sweater dress and vintage Chanel chain belt.) Pre-drop off Lisa was amazed at how much the girls had softened since I last saw her at her Halloween party.


So yesterday saw me Dryel-ing 20 sweaters and bringing the winter clothes out. As usual I forgot what goodies were buried under the detritus. The jeans are almost fitting well again, so I'm prepared for "Fall." Friday night Laura and I went to a rather Palm-Beach-esque cocktail party for the launch of the Bertram 540 yacht at a home called Casablanca on 44th Street and North Bay Road on the Beach.

Thank god I'd picked up this weird little sweater/shawl thing in Amalfi a couple years ago.



(Gossip Girl fans like me—and, ahem, JKD—may notice my headband. They are the ones Blair Waldorf sports, by a designer named Jennifer Ouellette, whose stuff is at Barneys and such but you can order online.)

(North Bay Road, the most desirable parts of it, is a street on Miami Beach a la Gin Lane, 5th Ave or South Ocean Blvd in Palm Beach.) Ten-thousand+ square foot, Mediterrannean McManse, never lived in, listed at $17+million. Fantastically overpriced. About a 100 feet waterfront, but about 20 feet between the neighboring lot/home. Typical—and terrible—characteristic about posh Miami Beach real estate. Of course we snagged ourselves a private tour of the house via one of the owners' staff.

And we had some fun. The closets, kitchen and bathrooms were most impressive.



I will be in Chicago though in two weeks, so shearlings and furs and boots, oh my (yes!). And Jacksonville—leaving Tuesday—is also cool enough to bundle up. I'm actually super-psyched about Jacksonville as Lay Ann is in town, Saveira's (brother's awesome GF) is coming and we have all kinds of fun girls' stuff plan. Including, naturally, a baking party. And a girls slumber party at Al's new beach pad.

Saveira is the furthest on left followed by Dawn, Deb, Jamie, me, Danielle and Shari in NYC.

I can't wait to show Saveira the town. Except it's better now. Would you believe that Jacksonville has a Louis????? And soon we are getting an Off 5th outlet and a Gucci outlet. Oh, the wardrobe expansion to come!

I also finally installed Skype so I can teach Kobi bad words from here to Chicago.

Now, back to the gym.