It happened after menopause. My waistline and my comfort with power
grew imperceptibly until one day I found myself having whiskey at breakfast
and convincing America to enter the war. Older women knew this would 
happen, but they didn't tell me. Politics. When you’re young, you want to
be lithe, diplomatic. You want to appease everyone. Now all I want to do is
to crush the fucking Nazis. It's not just that I want to set the world right; it’s
that now I know how to. My new capability. I realize I'll end my days out of
power, painting watercolors and writing memoirs no one will read, but not 
yet. Not yet.