To my loyal and adoring fans:

I’m writing to you because I know you’ll understand.

This adoption gig: I promise you it was no publicity stunt. I didn’t drag my husband and the rest of my entourage to Africa on some personal whim -- it was because of poverty and AIDS and crap like that. I mean, what’s the point of being one of the richest, most powerful women anywhere if you can’t yank at least one poor kid out of a hellhole like Malawi?

But like I was saying, I don’t know why the press and other whiners are making such a big deal out of it. This is purely a private family matter.

Sure, some people are saying I might not make the greatest mother. That other families trying to adopt internationally get scrutinized up and down about how much money they make, how they keep house, their physical and mental health, the friends they keep, and that the process can drag on and on and cost a bundle.

So we adopted David in about a week.

So what’s the problem? I’m an awesome mom. I’ve always had great respect for motherhood. Heck, I wanted to be a mother so bad that to get pregnant with my first kid I had sex with a paid employee.

Then there’s griping about some of the stuff in my past -- the nude photos, the coffee table book of porn, the general raunchiness. Hey, you know how hard it is to get ahead in this business. Sometimes you’ve got to stretch yourself -- take a few chances.

Besides, it’s like I said. That stuff’s in the past. These days my professional image is a lot more sophisticated.

Take my recent “Confessions” tour. The mock crucifixion, the crown of thorns, the leather and leashes -- that’s all art. And I think the Malawians appreciate that. At least, I know they sure appreciated all the miniature portraits of American presidents I passed around when I was in their country.

So please, don’t believe the lies about how I’m doing this just to be superficial and vainglorious. Honestly, I couldn’t be more sincere.

I’ve made up my mind. I’m keeping my baby. Oooh. Yeah.

M.