It’s so easy to be mean to yourself when you’re fat and your thighs continue moving after you’ve come to a stop. I’m trying to be extremely gentle and forgiving with myself today, having decided while I nursed Sam at dawn this morning that I’m probably just as good a mother as the next repressed, obsessive-compulsive paranoiac. I think we’re all pretty crazy on this bus. I’m not sure I know anyone who’s got all the dots on his or her dice.
