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coach purses for men turned out to be a terrific career move."There was definitely a sense of doing it for the common good," she remembered. "I was part of the Community. And I had a really nice house with a hot tub and a pool." And a boyfriend, too? "I had one when I first moved in," she informed me, "but as soon as I had 27 chickens, a vegetable garden, a puppy, and even a tortoise for a while, things changed. I was a little bit stressed out. "They were so powerful," said Heather, twinkling. "They'd grow an inch or two a night sometimes. Those 'girls' were a force of nature. We pushed each other to the limit, the girls and I!"As an extra bonus, the gals even provided an unasked for contact high at certain key moments, letting loose their juices whenever they were under the knife. "You get a transdermal high when you're trimming," Heather admitted. "The smell is so intense during that. And you have the repetitive motion of the scissors nonstop. 'Click, click, click, click . . .' It's the only job you can do stoned on whatever you like!"Not this little ex star, though. Heather was never a big smoker or an addictive type person a healthily obsessive multitasker who wrote a 1,000 page diary during her downtime and eventually trimmed it into Growgirl. (Click, click, click, click . . .)The book is a dense and breezy read full of extraordinarily intimate details, most memorably a heated conversation Heather had in a car with her own genitals. ("I'm not really into it," her vajayjay allegedly squawked about an oncoming sex act, to which Heather replied, "What are you pussy or the Clickkeyword[Oracle+Corporation]"