When I was a girl, I wanted the perfect nose ‑- one of those small, indistinctive noses that blends into the background of the model's face on a magazine cover. My Italian genetics, however, gave me another type of nose: a little long, a little bumpy, not terribly unpleasant, but definitely ethnic. I've thought about fixing it many times, particularly when I started appearing on TV. (We all know the camera adds five pounds, and noses are no exception.) So far I've resisted the temptation partly because my nose is an integral part of who I am that I don't want to lose, and partly because there's a rebel inside of me who hates to conform to what society says is perfect.

I once read that when Sofia Loren was trying to get into the movies, she was told that everything about her was too big (nose, eyes, lips, body), but she didn't give up. She believed in her unique features, which has made her an undeniable goddess throughout her life. Even today, she continues to exude inner and outer beauty.

Women in particular seem to be conditioned to spend their entire lives chasing someone else's definition of perfection. The perfect face without wrinkles or prominent features, and a body without one dimple of cellulite! Have you ever met anyone like this? The perfect entertaining skills, where you gather the twigs and leaves you'll be gluing together for the table centerpiece prior to preparing a dinner from scratch for 12. Do you even own a glue gun? The perfect man who treats you like a queen, loves your mother and never leaves his dirty socks on the floor. Are you sure he's straight? C'mon, women ‑- what 1950s sitcom are you living in? None of these scenarios resemble real life.