MY THOUGHTSLOVED ITTracey Jackson writes about what I suspected all along: all of this trying to act, be, look younger is not worth it and fifty is not the new thirty no matter how much "work" you do -- your insides are still a ticking timebomb. She gracefully delves into the aging dilemma that women my age (yes, fifty) are now being bombarded with in the media. Hormone replacement therapy, plastic surgery, keeping fit and eating right are all tackled in this book of essays all linked together by age. And then there is ageism which is more than apparent in Hollywood were she was a screen writer. There are parts of this memoir that are truly laugh out loud funny and others that are really poignant. Jackson goes back in her own family history relating how her grandmother didn't care about how she ate or looked while her mother was a health fanatic and plastic surgery devotee. That is a choice each of us has to make. Do we get work done? Do we take the hormones to feel normal? And will your heart explode even though you do everything right?I didn't agree with all of her reasons for her actions, but Hollywood is indeed a strange place to live and work. Things that are not normal any place else are a given there and you are only as good as how you look or your age. This probably won't play well in Peoria but like Hot in Cleveland, no one in Hollywood can look good forever and you need to step away. I have friends that work in that industry and I used to be jealous of how good they look, but as Jackson concludes, everyone dies and no matter how good you look on the outside, your insides could be a complete mess. The best point she makes in the whole book is when she relates that the most fulfilling moment came when she was out of work and produced a documentary about her over privileged child volunteering in India. Overall, a good and quick read about getting older while being a bit neurotic.