August 3, 2001
A few weeks ago, back when I was still feeling bloated and fat and awkward, Keith and I were walking in the mall, and we passed Victoria's Secret, with its window-length posters of gorgeous models with perfectly flat bellies and golden-toned skin and large yet firm breasts and toned muscles, with hair all wind-blown and sexy, with enticing expressions on their faces.
I asked Keith, a little petulantly, "Why don't I look like that?" He looked confused for a second, like he didn't really understand the question, and then he shrugged and squeezed my hand and said, "Because you have a miracle inside you, and they don't."