When A Quiz Becomes A Launchpad of Sorts.

"What Kind Of A Woman Are You?"

A relatively simple quiz suffice to pique one's curiosity and occupy an individual for all of one minute. ( 60 seconds to the old man with the smoking pipe is but a regime of puffs while the cross-legged contortionist awaiting an occupied cubicle in the lavatory will gladly unravel a different tale.)

It would have been, simple, that is, had it not produced a blitzkrieg in rapid succession.

Perhaps it was in tandem with the mangle of crimson nets.

As a child, I recall with fervent glee that library visitations often resulted in the carting of numerous literary spines. Biographies were devoured along with the likes of Medical Encyclopedia, Teen Rebellion, Psychology and such. ( Yes, at the age of 10, I had taken to reading these. )

Framing the paradigm of fairytales was Lady Diana Frances Spencer, or Princess Diana.

An archetype of elegance, beauty, intelligence and kindness, she seemed to have it all. At the same time, she was incredibly sad and lonely.

Thrust in the limelight, she was the belle of the ball, her unhappiness shrouded with twinkling eyes and smiles. Alone, the masquerade fell apart.

Princess Diana.

Nicole Kidman.

Jennifer Aniston.

Women dedicated to being perfect under public scrutiny but crumbled piteously when the curtains fell.

Do the people you admire reflect who you are?

Are these figures an extension of yourself?

**For the record, Mich's results point in the direction of Coy.