Cancer Schmancer Read Online Free

this point she was annoying me. My life was so up in the air I had no idea what I was having for breakfast, let alone what I was doing about having kids. But the photo of that very fat, bald baby in his tiny baseball uniform sitting in a catcher’s mitt sure looked cute.
    In that moment I made a mental note to stop seeing a gynecologist who was also an obstetrician. I mean, I needed this pressure like a hole in the head. So I pulled up my pants and left with a sample bag of Chinese weight-loss herbs and a clean bill of health. I had cancer at the time.

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    Dating
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    well, by the time the fifth season of The Nannyended and our hiatus began, Peter and I, and the whole cast and crew, breathed a sigh of relief. We could escape from each other and all the pressure. Peter packed up and went to New York, while I stayed in L.A. We took separate coasts for that hiatus and spent the next months free from it all. It was during this period that I allowed myself to really feel single.
    There I was, a forty-year-old woman, and I’d never really dated. I began to make new friends and branch out from the married couples Peter and I had known for years. This helped me discover who I was outside of the marriage. Somehow I fell in with a group of Europeans who were very social. They were always throwing parties, and I was always game to go.
    For the first time, I felt like I could be whoever I wanted to be.
    Free to decide everything for myself, without feeling encumbered by my nagging inner voice always trying to do what was best for those around me. I was someone with no experience being on my own. Zilch! I never went away to college, never even went away to camp! At the age of nineteen I moved out of my bedroom in my 9377 Cancer Schmancer 2/28/02 4:18 PM Page 14
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    parents’ apartment in Queens and in with Peter. But now it was time to have some fun.
    It’s not that I was wild—God knows, nobody would ever describe me as that—but I was “open.” I wanted to meet new circles of friends and I appreciated whenever I was included. I used to tell everyone, “I’m hard up, invite me!” I remember my English friend Kat, a well-known interior decorator whom I’d been friends with for years, was entertaining some Italians who were visiting L.A.
    We all decided to take a hike in the mountains together.
    Well, one of the three men, Vincenzo, was so gorgeous. I mean, like right out of La Dolce Vita. Black wavy hair, dark sunglasses, and dazzling white teeth. He was olive-complected and dressed casually in whites and tans. He had an adorable Italian accent and spoke limited English. Perfecto!
    There we were on the hike when Vincenzo and I started to hit it off. “I see Nanny in Italia,” he said. “It call La Tata.”
    Smooth move, I thought. Talking about one of my favorite subjects.
    “I like sound of you voice,” he said.
    Does he realize the show is dubbed in Italy?
    “You much more beautiful and younger in person than TV.”
    Well, no language barrier here. Honey, come to Mama! By now I’m workin’ my mojo, gettin’ that whole thing goin’, and I’m checkin’ out his legs, his clothes, the way the tendrils of his hair spill over the white collar of his shirt, even his fingernails. And after careful inspection, I’m still interested.
    After the hike we all wound up at a beachfront restaurant for margaritas and then at my apartment just to hang out for a while.
    Despite the place being so small, they all loved its white, airy look and felt very comfortable. One by one everybody had somewhere else to go. Everybody except Vincenzo, that is.
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    enced. Oh well, better late than never. I gotta admit, I was feeling a nervous flutter in my stomach when I closed that front door on the last visitor and