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My sister Tiffany told me years ago, 'You can never write about me.' Then she called six months ago and said she wanted to be in a story. She was worried people thought I didn't like her.

I do have a sister. I have never written much about sisters before. I am very close to my sister, but, maybe, because we are very close, it never occurred to me to write about her.

I'm the ugly sister. I'm the fat one. I'm the transvestite. I have had those mean things said about me at least twice a day for the last five years. It's horrible, you know? But I can brush that stuff off.

I never looked at myself as the fat sister. Sometimes I would beat people to the punch and say, 'Oh I'm the fat, funny one,' because that's what people would say about me. But I never really thought that.

When my sister Joan arrived, I asked if I could swap her for a rabbit. When I think what a marvellous friend she's been, I'm so glad my parents didn't take me at my word.

Even my aunt Joan, hopelessly sentimental about every member of our family, admitted that I was hideous.

The editor of a newspaper, who is an old friend, asked me to write a column. According to her, I cracked lame jokes all the time and read voraciously.

My mother, Yolanda, was a little girl who never grew up, and sometimes we would laugh, and I would say things like, 'Okay, so now it looks like I am your mother and you are my daughter,' to which she would reply, 'Well, yes. Handle it and pamper me.'

I have two younger sisters and I'm such an advocate of owning who you are as a person. Don't be ashamed or intimidated. Never feel like you are not amazing.