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I got divorced a year ago. After getting married at 20 to my college sweetheart, he told me he felt like he was suffocating and after 20 years and one daughter, he left me and moved to the West Coast. Now before you start feeling sorry for me, let me elaborate. He not only paid me a hefty alimony every month, but he also said he would take care of our daughter's financial needs, namely college, even though at 18, he was no longer obligated to do so. Being a successful corporate lawyer, he could definitely afford it. He also left me the house, the car and the sail boat. All in all, a very amicable divorce.

My daughter Sherry and I were like best friends. We hardly had any secrets between us. She looked a great deal like I did at her age. We both had the same strawberry blond hair (even though mine now came from a bottle) and the same pale green eyes and porcelain complexion. We also had similar looking faces, but that was where the comparisons ended. A long time fan of Pilates, I had managed to still have a decent figure, but my body of 40 was no match for an 18 year old. A perfectly flat stomach, a tight ass and long legs and Sherry was also better endowed than me. I was proud to have such a lovely daughter. We had spent hours talking about boys and sex and I even took her to the doctor to put her on the shot so she wouldn't come home pregnant. She had her first "real" boyfriend named Matthew. They had been dating for six months, and I was not that naive to think that they were not sleeping together. I was sure they had done so at college or at home while I was at work. Sherry had other boyfriends in high school, but ...

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