A peek at the diary of ... Nicole Kidman

Seen the new Vanity Fair cover? I'm ripping open a sailor's uniform to expose my underwear. The headline: Nicole Bares All.

Anyway, therein I break my previously very welcome silence to reveal - among other much-needed disclosures - details of my miscarriages during my relationship with Tom Cruise. Why? Because knowing a celebrity has Gone Through Stuff makes you feel better about your crappy life, especially if they show you their rack at the same time.

As the publicity-serum kicks in, I also explain I was engaged to someone I coyly refuse to name, so everyone has identified him as Lenny Kravitz. Poor Lenny - his dreams of keeping that particular brain fever under wraps have gone right up in smoke.

Other news? That the night I won the Oscar for Best Prosthetic Nose was one of the loneliest of my life. Yes, the old "it's lonely when you get back to the hotel room" line. You know how this one goes. There was no one to share it with, as though for one bloody night an Academy Award, two kids and a gazillion dollars per picture were not enough.

Still, now I have a new husband and, as I tell Vanity Fair, I hope blabbering about his rehab will be useful to other civilian couples. What's that? Could their dignified silence be useful to me? I'm sorry ... that's too personal a question. I have to keep some answers back.