Since the day a few cherry-tomato-sized growths were discovered in my uterus 10 years ago, to the “innumerable” large tumors that fill it today, nearly every doctor has urged me to have a hysterectomy. And I have refused, since I have never had any symptoms – no pain, no heavy bleeding, no anemia, etc. Sure, there’s the bloated feeling and the tummy bulge, but the possibility of complications from hysterectomy, myomectomy, uterine embolization, drug clinical trials, etc. was not worth it to relieve such minor discomfort.

I had an epiphany after being on the show, though. It occurred to me that, most likely, no doctor is able to answer my question: “By not having surgery, what damage can I be doing to my body right now?” I think it’s likely that they can only predict - as they did 10 years ago - what might happen in the future, if/when major symptoms appear.

But, like Dr. Lisa Masterson of The Doctors told me, I do need to do something.

And I am. As I stated on the show, my MRI was a wake-up call — the sheer size and number of fibroids, coupled with the fact that they will continue to grow and multiply if I don’t do anything, has spurred me to action. To, once again, actively research options — from holistic approaches involving diet and cleansing to Insightecsnew non-invasive procedure that uses ultrasound to destroy the tumors — and more.

And, as I talk to women, I’m amazed by the number who have fibroids or have had surgery. Do you — or a woman you know — have fibroids? If so, what’s been your/her experience? I’d love to know.

Okay. That’s enough serious stuff — you know I’m rarely serious on my blog. Stay tuned for Part II of my Morning Show debut, where I’ll share the exciting, light-hearted side of my trip.

So, Sunday night I arrived in New York. Today, there was a day-in-the-life video shoot and tomorrow I go on the show LIVE.

Sure, I’m excited but … can you spell s-c-a-r-e-d? (LOL) For those of you who check out my blog regularly, you know how I love to make myself the butt of my own jokes. But that’s only on my blog — not on television!

So, pleeeease keep your fingers crossed for me! And, if you’re able to catch the show, visit The Morning Show site to see where it’ll air near you! I hope you can watch it — but, only if I do okay. (LOL)

Oh, and by the way, I’ll be talking about my humongous fibroids.

More later.

“Oh my God. You should blog about this!” exclaimed Calista Fox, right after the guy at the bar told me he needed to clean my aura and handed me his business card. A quick glance showed he was a Demon Cleanser.

“Oh my God! You should blog about this!” wrote Calista Fox, right after we had a pleasant, nonsexual , smalltalk-filled conversation with a guy at RT – after which, I got an email, stating, “The best part of the chase is the scent of passion and the taste of the passionate. Chasing you would certainly be yummy!”

“Oh my God! You should blog about this!” wrote Calista Fox, right after I told her about the guy I’d met at a Ten Minute Dating event, only to discover later, he was also dating the friend I attended the event with.

This is where I got stuck. I drew a complete blank on a male celebrity who has a nice ass. So, I had to stop and do some “research.”

This “research” led me to a butt quiz, which totally snapped me out of the mood as I was forced to gaze upon some awful-looking butts. Then I found a survey soliciting votes for/against butts – but with no photos. (Am I the only one who doesn’t have an image of every celebrity’s ass engraved in my brain?!)

And, somehow, this search led me to … furniture. Which completely removed all thoughts of ass cheeks and writing from my mind, since I desperately need living room furniture.

So, let’s forget about butts. And let’s talk about lips.

What do you think of this ensemble for my living room? Cheesy? Or the perfect statement for an erotic romance author?

Here’s the short version:

So, I recently met this guy that I really liked. And he was doing all the right things – which made me suspicious. Which, then made me guarded and finally culminated in a black moment worthy of my current work-in-progress, aptly titled RUNNING AWAY.

Now, since I write romance, you’re probably thinking that, like Sharice in SIN CLUB, I realized the error of my ways and did exactly the right thing, which lead to a happily-ever-after, right?

Uh … Um …

Well, I did realize the error of my ways, but … perhaps the text message, followed by the email message, both of which sounded more like Dear John memos than the sorry-and-hey-I-really-like-you notes they were meant to be … well, perhaps, that was not the right thing to say or do. Or, perhaps he didn’t care and was a guy straight out of Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo’s, HE’S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU.

But, regardless, this does have a happily-ever-after-ending. Because I realized that I need to work on this fear of rejection thing. I mean, I’ve got it down in my business and writing life, but not in my personal life.

So, in 2009, that’s going to be one of my New Year’s Resolutions. And, I came up with one way to work on this. It’s featured in Bonnie Albo’s article, Top New Year’s Resolutions for Singles at About.com. I hope you’ll check it out.

So, tell me … do you have any rejection issues, personal or business? Or, perhaps you’d just like to share one of your resolutions? I’d love to know.

Happy New Year!

Cast your vote, then leave a comment (maybe telling why you prefer one over the other?) on my blog, and you’ll be entered in a drawing for a red iPod Shuffle!

(The picture to the left is of us posing in front of the house Grant Wood used in his famous painting, American Gothic, in Eldon, IA).

Here are some fun highlights from last year’s trip…

After lunching at Highway Restaurant in Albia, IA, we discovered the parking lot full of tractors. We met a friendly group of guys on a tractor ride — same thing as guys going out on a motorcyle ride, except s-l-o-w-e-r.

Tractor Lineup in Albia

Oh, darn. Just discovered I missed this year’s square-dancing tractor performance.

My mouth dropped open when I saw the sign below. $5.00? Know how many $45 parking tickets I’ve gotten in San Francisco?! Made me want to get one just to see if they were telling the truth.

Parking Sign in Burlington, IA

And, being an erotic romance writer, I had a good chuckle at this one:

Kum N Go Station in Ottumwa, IA

OMG, I just noticed those gas prices. Now, that’s enough to make me weep!

Well, off to get stuff done before my flight. Stay tuned for exciting photos from this year’s trip.

Instead, I picked a pair of plain black pants, a plain black scoop-neck top, and a gray button-up sweater.

“Why did you leave the house looking like Mr. Rogers?” You ask.

Because, “somehow,” I could no longer fit into my “cute” clothes. Actually, I could never fit into those clothes, because I’d bought them a tad too tight as incentive to lose a couple pounds. Six months later, there they hung, tight-ER.

Later that night, as I looked at myself in the mirror, I asked, “How did this happen?”

Gee, could it be the dessert that I like to have twice a day? Or the super grande al pastor burrito with guacamole, sour cream, and extra cheese that I indulge in at least twice a week? Or possibly the daily asiago bagel with lox schmear?

Nah, that couldn’t be it.

But, after staring at those “cute” clothes for another couple of weeks, I decided that, maybe, just maybe that might be it. So, I searched for a solution.

A co-worker of mine recommended www.DietToGo.com so I gave it a try – despite the fact he’s uber thin and has never dieted a day in his life. I get freshly prepared food – 3 meals/day – delivered twice a week. And the best part is it’s tasty and filling and I’m losing weight. After a week, I’ve lost five pounds – I don’t care if it’s all water, I’m counting it!

So, wish me luck – I’ve got 7 pounds more to go. Or, maybe 10. Whatever it takes to get into those “cute” clothes!

Just curious: Have you tried any diet programs or healthy eating habits that have worked for you?

So, during the same photo shoot that the uber-talented Scott Marrs took the shot of me draped in the sheet that you see on my site, we played around with some creative shots.

One that we tried was a “high-fashion” shot.

“Okay,” said Scott, “Give me a dead stare.” That is, a look that’s completely devoid of expression.

Apparently, it’s a look that fashion models must perfect.

And, just as apparent, it’s a look that I suck at. So, hundreds of shots later, we gave up.

“Okay. Now, think of something sad,” said Scott.

I stared off into the distance, my gaze barely noticing the netting that dipped over my eyes or the smoke spiraling up from the cigarette lightly clasped between my fingers.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he said softly, amid the whir of the camera shutter.

“That’s what?” I asked, after he’d signaled he was done.

“This is the look I was trying to get from you before.” And, as we flipped through the photos in his camera, I realized that I’d accidentally given him the expressionless look:

1. The Dead Stare

2. The Noir Shot

Now, I know what I was thinking in these shots. But, what do the photos say to you? Pretend that the woman is not me. Instead, she’s a character in a book you’re reading. Tell me something about her.

For example, what’s just happened to her? What is she thinking? What is she feeling? Write whatever comes to mind. Create a story or give me some dialogue, or just jot down a thought that says it all. It might take you a single sentence – or several paragraphs.

PLEASE NOTE: This contest is open to any and all. You don’t have to be a writer. Perfect prose is not required.

So, please take a moment to share your thoughts - and, hopefully, you’ll win!

“Rachelle, there’s something I need to tell you. Do you have a minute?” His somber look and serious tone sent my heart racing – and my mind scrambling to identify the latest family crisis.

“Sure,” I said with a tremor in my voice.

He shook his head sadly. “It’s a shame the way you look when you leave the house.”

I struggled to wipe the images of cancer-ridden loved-ones from my mind. “Huh?”

“You’re an attractive woman. You should be a clothes-horse, but instead…”

As he went on, I looked down at myself, as if for the first time. Some sort of wrinkled pea green waterproof hiking pants, covered with pockets and zippers, hung from my hips like jeans worn by boys and rappers. The resemblance was unintentional, as they were men’s pants – about three sizes too big. Equally big and shapeless, was a long-sleeve, royal blue t-shirt that reached my thighs.

I put a hand to my head, readjusting the black Nike baseball cap that I’d removed from my dad’s Goodwill stack. Excluding my bangs, it completely covered my hair. Throw in the three year old glasses, the total lack of make-up, and …

He was right. I looked awful. My parents had taught my siblings and me to always leave the house looking our best, but I’d been the only one to consistently fail this lesson.

“Here, Rachelle.”

His voice, now laden with sympathy, jerked my attention to him – and the money in his outstretched hand. Heat burned my face. Humiliation flickered through my body.

Though I didn’t accept my dad’s gift, I did follow his advice. I consulted an image consultant, who showed me the basics of make-up, the colors that looked good on me, and the clothing cuts appropriate for my body. While I’d never been a fashion disaster (when I made the effort to look good, that is), I was delighted with the improvement in my appearance.

Until yesterday.

As I stood in the center of Chronicle Books, flipping through Brenda Kinsel’s Fashion Makeover: 30 Days to Diva Style!, my attention once again turned to what I was wearing: Sketchers tennis shoes; big-legged black “dressy” sweat pants; tan zippered sweater from four seasons ago; a man’s XL charcoal jacket (a castoff of my bother’s); two year old glasses…

I picked up Ms. Kinsel’s book and rushed to the register. This time, I’m going to address the problem before my dad notices my relapse. And who knows? I might just share my results with you, too.