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Last week, I almost had a heart attack. And not the good kind - the Ocean's 13 is finally in theaters and I get to see both George Clooney and Brad Pitt on the same screen kind.

Not only was this little cardiac episode disturbing, it was a blow to my ego. All my life, I've taken pride in my low risk of cardiovascular disease. In high school, I was voted "Most likely to die by getting hit by a truck." When I got my first job, I had my high and low density cholesterol numbers printed on my business cards, so others in my profession could read 'em and weep. My blood pressure is usually so low, the nurse has tune in Rush Limbaugh on the interoffice radio, then slap me around a little to get anything to register on the Sphygmomanometer. (Can we take a time out just to appreciate the beauty of that word? Say it to yourself, I'll wait...)

I dragged myself to the doctor after my husband threatened that if he woke up with me lying dead beside him he would kill my favorite shrub. Boy, does he know how to motivate a gal! I spent forty-seven minutes reading AARP Magazine in the waiting room (it's the only one with large enough font for me to see without my reading glasses. I haven't yet decided if wearing the glasses or reading the magazine make me look older). Then there was the cursory one-minute rush down the hall with the nurse, step on the scale, argue that your pants and shoes weigh fifteen pounds, and go wait in the exam room for another thirty-three minutes where the only reading material was a brochure on enlarged prostate and its treatment. Did you know they can microwave your prostate? See, there, didn't it shrink up on its own? You can thank me later.

When the doctor finally arrived, he asked me a series of questions - Do you drink caffeine? Do you smoke tobacco? Do you play naked Twister at family gatherings? I assume these were to determine whether I might have caused my own problem, but for all I know, he was in the market for a coffee-guzzling, smoke-smelling woman to take to his family's nudist camp this summer.

Finally, he took me down the hall where a technician hooked me up to a bunch of wires and we played Tiger Wood's Video Golf for fifteen minutes. Then she measured my heart waves, which were, according to my chart, somewhere between the "Beauty Queen riding in the annual city parade" wave and the "Angry Italian woman shaking her fist at her children" wave. I'm guessing closer to the latter.

When I was all done, I received my official diagnosis: "Nothing appears to be wrong with you, but if it happens again, be sure to come back in." They just love me for my co-pay.

But problem or no, I was quite shaken. I immediately went out and got a pedicure and a brow wax. Because if I'm going to go, I'm going to go pretty. It doesn't matter that I plan to be cremated and no one will see me - I'll know.

I've decided to turn my little scare into a lesson in living a less stressful life. In fact, I've spent a couple of minutes searching the Internet looking for an appropriate role model to show me the way. I finally settled on Paris Hilton. From the look of it, she has a lot to teach me about keeping things in perspective. For example:

• Because dogs help keep your blood pressure low, always carry yours with you, even while drinking and driving. In fact, if you can teach your dog to drive, even better.
• Rather than stress over things like court appearances, phone it in.
• When things seem out of control, burst into tears and yell "Mommy." Try it, you'll feel so much better.
• Stop putting so much pressure on yourself to be beautiful. Paris, recently told reporters that despite the fact that she has been forced to wear an orange or brown jumpsuit and not allowed make-up or skincare products for her very dry skin, ""It doesn't matter - I'm not that superficial girl. I haven't looked in the mirror since I got here."
• If you have no other options, accept your fate, then find God. Usually he can be found right under the prison mattress. And don't worry, he usually hides again when you're ready to party.
• When all else fails, remember to live The Simple Life.

Yes, I can feel the stress melting away already. Now don't tell anyone about my little heart scare. What my insurance company doesn't know won't hurt me.

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