No wonder I was a very good actress: I was a chameleon. My persona was completely dependent on what others thought of me. People loved me because I acted upbeat and cheerful; I knew they loved me for being something I wasn’t but at least they loved me. If someone thought I was something I was something; if someone didn’t think much of me I was nothing. It was like I had no skin. This hypersensitivity caused a lot of pain. I felt very alone. Like a leaf blowing in the wind not connected to anything. Between auditions I went to work for my friend who owned a day spa. I was terrible at everything but the makeup — I was great at that. My personality does well in animation — an audience or a customer animated me. My goal is to sell an item create an atmosphere. Soon I was choosing palettes and being sent to shows to introduce the season’s new colors. When a sales rep for Ralph Lauren said “We could put you in at Macy’s on Herald Square ” I went to work there. I was a very theatrical makeup person. If Ralph Lauren designed the makeup area to look like Africa I’d wear jodhpurs and become a girl in their scene. I knew how to be part of a scene — it was being myself that was impossible. I thought I was like a bottle of perfume — if packaged well the sale is a cinch. I tried to package myself so people would want what I was selling. The makeup companies loved me and I became counter manager answerable only to our six-foot-four 280-pound intimidating floor supervisor Mr. Parker. My brother who had become frum through Aish while backpacking in Israel convinced me to go to a Discovery weekend. I had run around looking for spirituality but I didn’t know I could find it in Judaism. “You gotta go and learn! Inspect your own backyard!” he told me. I went just so I could cross “check out Judaism” off my list. I didn’t want to feel guilty about never having tried it. Then I thought I’d get back to real life. It wouldn’t take long.