Sitting in the box seat, watching my personal show “My Wonder Years” is both gut-bustingly funny and painfully demoralizing. For example, being a gray-haired woman, I wonder why I subdue (to the public) the part of me that always finds lowbrow fart jokes hysterically entertaining, since I am a self-professed poster child of failed maturation. How can giving side-eye cause a pinched nerve I didn’t know existed? How much time do I waste wishing I could be as fat as I thought I was when I was in high school and punishing myself for failing? Confession: the size I wear day-to-day determines the fluctuations in my personality. But most of all, I don’t know why I'm so concerned about vanity sizes and personalities, since I know the infrequent viewers don't really care (because they know me). Who is your audience, and are they even paying attention? Let’s talk about it.