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"  Dolls, the great, clever beauties who write to the Ask Eeee column are so stylish that even their quagmires fall into the &amp;quot;classic&amp;quot; category. For ELLE&amp;#039;s Personal Style issue, here&amp;#039;s a look at what&amp;#039;s chic in snafus.  The Should-I-Be-Rich-or-Should-I-Be-Happy? DilemmaDEAR E. JEAN : I earned a degree in political science, and it was the most poisonous department\u2014full of small-minded, pessimistic people. After graduating, it quickly became obvious that my expensive degree would not get me a job. So now I&amp;#039;m attending graduate school, studying finance. I don&amp;#039;t like it and I&amp;#039;m not good at it, but at least it will guarantee me a career.  But should I even try to be rich? I won&amp;#039;t be happy unless I make the planet a better place. But how do I support myself and save the world, E. Jean? So many liars, bigots, and know-it-alls are screwing it up!\u2014Running from the Rats Running, my presh : Chill. We&amp;#039;ll grapple with your gripping intellectual convulsions about being rich in a moment, but first: Mrs. Titi Mwinyi, a resident of Tanzania, is starting a beauty salon. Cease jabbering about &amp;quot;saving the world,&amp;quot; Miss Running, and go to Kiva.org. Donate 20 bucks to Mrs. Mwinyi, and lift this deserving woman and her three children out of poverty. By loaning Mrs. M. the cash to buy hair dryers and shampoo, I became a banker and I feel richer than a god and cooler than Oprah.Micro-financing is finance. It&amp;#039;s astonishing what a tiny loan can do. So &amp;quot;studying finance,&amp;quot; you see, turns out to be your genius move. It puts you in precisely the right place, at totally the right time\u2014admittedly, your first job out of grad school may not be the stuff of social revolution, but give it a chance before you decide you &amp;quot;don&amp;#039;t like it&amp;quot; and are &amp;quot;not good at it.&amp;quot; Bah! If you watch, learn, and suck it all up with interest, you&amp;#039;ll be rich and save the world, one Titi Mwinyi at a time.  The I-Want-to-Recycle-My-Cheapskate-Friend ProblemDEAR E. JEAN : For my best friend&amp;#039;s birthday, I gave her a gorgeous dress. Two days later, for my birthday, she presented me with the ugliest light-blue suede handbag imaginable. It looks like something she got for Christmas last year and then let sit around for 10 months, gathering dust and stains\u2014it&amp;#039;s filthy. She&amp;#039;s supposed to be my closest friend! Do I buy suede cleaner and keep quiet? Or do I call her out on this?\u2014Hurting in Hollywood E-mail your questions to e.jean@askejean.com Cuz it is, as I said, your decision. And though you may end up looking exactly like how the porn media says a woman, strike that, girl should look, so what? You obviously adore the porn media; and if you want to spend all your time researching the best bust bubbles instead of enhancing your other strengths, it is, after all, your decision. And though this entire issue of ELLE is about women reveling in their individual style, be it lean or curvy, if you want to run about sporting toilet plungers, it is, I repeat, my dear kumquat, your decision.And speaking of fake breasts...  The My-Plastic-Surgeon-Boyfriend-Is-&amp;quot;Practicing&amp;quot;-on Brazilian-Playmates ProblemoDEAR E. JEAN : I&amp;#039;ve been dating a plastic surgeon. I also work for him and helped build his small, unknown practice into a $4 million company. My efforts got him publicity on national TV shows, in big magazines, and in The New York Times. Then he dumped me for a Brazilian Playmate. When we got back together, he dropped me for a stripper. After he came crawling back again, he left me for a Canadian bombshell he met in Vegas. Last night, I checked his cell phone and saw that he got a missed call from a 21-year-old model (he&amp;#039;s 39!). I keep taking him back because it&amp;#039;s hard to cut my losses. It makes me crazy thinking another woman is enjoying the fruits of my labor. Why am I not good enough for him?\u2014Tired of Being Stepped On Miss Tired, my dear : Time to perform a little surgery, sweetheart. Ready? Snap on the germ mask, cut the sleaze off, and drop him into a medical waste container. I want to personally ship this moron to the EPA dump. You don&amp;#039;t need the cad. You possess the brio to build your own $4 million\u2014heck, $5 million!\u2014empire. Get to it! E-mail your questions to e.jean@askejean.com Oh, pull yourself together, Hurting : Throw the thing into the washer, toss in half a box of Tide with Bleach, then dry it on the line (and make sure you clothespin the bugger so it&amp;#039;s in direct sunlight). If it doesn&amp;#039;t come out looking like the petrified jockstrap of King Tut, run over it twice with your car, and throw it in the washer again. Then the next time you see her, carry the bag proudly. When she remarks on it, tell her: &amp;quot;Darling, you noticed! It was a tad dusty, so I freshened it up a smidge.&amp;quot;But really, you&amp;#039;re not that wretched about the handbag, are you? You&amp;#039;re feeling, perhaps, just a bit unloved?  Either way, be happy you have a close friend, love her in spite of her faults, and don&amp;#039;t judge people by how much $$$ they spend on you\u2014or you&amp;#039;re going to be miserable for the rest of your life.  P.S. For her next celebration, dig your dad&amp;#039;s moth-eaten argyle sweater out of the trunk in the attic, give it to her, and tell her it&amp;#039;s the latest in distressed, menswear-inspired fashion.  The How-Do-I-Become-More-Famous-Than-Perez-Hilton PredicamentDEAR E. JEAN : This is probably going to be a strange career question, but I&amp;#039;m a writer with a blog (just like everybody), and I want to know how I can get more publicity for it. What&amp;#039;s the secret?\u2014Blogatrix Blogatrix, my beauty : Well, if your blog is like &amp;quot;everybody&amp;#039;s,&amp;quot; it&amp;#039;s (by definition) tripe, hunny. It just so happens that yours is the No. 1 most frequently asked career question coming across the Ask E. desk. So, for those of you who are having a bad case of bloggerrhea, let&amp;#039;s dive in.  The Three Best Ways to Get Your Blog Noticed: 1. Eschew the old polite-essay form. Forget the hunched-over-the-keyboard insights\u2014gah! We&amp;#039;re drowning in Internet insightfulness! Instead, choose a blogosphere icon, wittily attack his/her most sacred ideas, and update five times a day. Start each new post with: &amp;quot;O&amp;#039;Reilly! (Markos! Malkin! Hitchens!) You worthless, brain-damaged illiterate!&amp;quot; This will rile up the message boards, and lathered-up commentators will produce links to your blog. The more links, the higheryou go on Google, Feedster, and Technorati. 2. Own your subject. Update several times a day with bulletproof wit on a subject nobody else is covering. (See the waggishly cool Jessica Valenti on feministing.com and Virginia Heffernan&amp;#039;s ingenious, droll &amp;quot;Screens,&amp;quot; about videos, vlogs, podcasts, etc., at screens.blogs.nytimes.com. Both these women gong-kick their subjects.) E-mail your questions to e.jean@askejean.com 3. Do the work. Break stories; update with new links, pictures, and videos; and for gawdssake, write with style. (See Rosie O&amp;#039;Donnell&amp;#039;s weird yet addicting rosie.com; Jesse Kornbluth&amp;#039;s irreverent recommendations for books, movies, and music at headbutler.com; and Carol Han&amp;#039;s juicy fashion-insider &amp;quot;Market Girl&amp;quot; at ELLE.com.)That&amp;#039;s it. Though I do have a theory that if you vlog in your underwear (like nakednews.com), your viewership will skyrocket, the hideous reality is that to get your blog seen by more than 30 people, let alone read and commented on, it requires 10 hours a day, seven days a week of slogging. If you don&amp;#039;t possess that stamina, write Wikipedia entries instead, my luv, and enlighten people.  The Ooops-I-Just-Killed-My-Career ConundrumDEAR E. JEAN : I just gave up a job that I&amp;#039;ve dreamed about my whole life. I had the opportunity to work for a great fashion designer in New York. And what did I do? I accepted an engagement ring from my boyfriend and moved across the country to be with him. Since then, we fight all the time, I have no friends or family here, and the dream job has been filled. This place is sooo not fashionable. I wish I were in New York! What do I do? I don&amp;#039;t want to live without him\u2014he&amp;#039;s the perfect guy for me. But I&amp;#039;m miserable.\u2014The Devil Wears Nada Miss Devil, my darling : Pfft. Let no man, no ring, no lovey-dovey-ness kill your dream. Pack the bags, kiss the fianc\u00E9, and hie your withered, couture-less carcass back to New York. If the lad&amp;#039;s as perfect as you say, you can make the LD romance work. And if one great company offered you a job before, chances are excellent you&amp;#039;ll win over another. So scram! Don&amp;#039;t fear the consequences. Go with your gut (which you ignored last time). Now give me a hug, and getouttahere.  The-Where-Are-My-Breasts? MessDEAR E. JEAN : Excuse my frankness, but I want boobs. I&amp;#039;m 24 and still stuff my bra. My mom constantly tells me how dangerous implants are, and my friends tell me my body is fine; I&amp;#039;ve never heard a complaint from any man I&amp;#039;ve dated, so getting them done would be for me only. However, I&amp;#039;m obsessed. I think of them all the time. What do you think? Should I do it? \u2014Enhancing What I Don&amp;#039;t Have Enhancing, my luv : It&amp;#039;s your body, your decision. Of course, as with any surgery, &amp;quot;excessive bleeding may cause some swelling and pain,&amp;quot; according to the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, and though the implants themselves may not be as &amp;quot;dangerous&amp;quot; as your mother thinks, cancerous lumps that put your life in danger will be more difficult to detect. But it&amp;#039;s your life, your decision. And even if you&amp;#039;re flatter than Padma Lakshmi&amp;#039;s pastry board and you&amp;#039;re just dying\u2014dying\u2014to walk around with little traffic cones, then, yeah, find the best plastic surgeon, talk to people she has pumped full of saline, and hand her the $6,000.  E-mail your questions to e.jean@askejean.com "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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