Lance Armstrong

So, Lance took one look at me and proposed on the spot. Since then, we've eloped, my hair and his testicle have grown back, and we're honeymooning in Biarritz. If anyone needs to reach us.

Sigh. Actually, no, I'm sorry to say, that's not how it went, but it was extremely cool to meet Mr LiveStrong himself and to hear him speak at the Tufts University graduation. Special thanks to Marcin for pulling whatever strings he did to get us tickets to the brunch with Lance. He is incredibly down to earth, passionate about what he does, and is solidly cuter in person.

I've been musing a lot about appearances lately because I don't recognize myself in the mirror anymore. It's the strangest sensation. I haven't been this pale since the womb, I can count the number of tenacious eyelashes on each eye, and I have this new spattering of big dark freckles courtesy of the radiation treatment. Add in the scrawniness and baldness and you start to believe me.

Last weekend, in addition to the Fletcher graduation, I had the privilege of attending a Lobster and Clam Bake party- very New England and very fun for those not from these parts- and of course, everyone's got their digital cameras flashing. With the instant satisfaction of checking out your pictures, came, for me, the shock every time of what I look like. I guess people around me are used to my ghastliness but every time I see a snapshot or pass a mirror, I am surprised anew. I'm not really complaining; par for the course I suppose and everything will come back to normal someday they say. People have it way worse than me. The interesting part is just that, how many people's faces really change look and dimension within their lifetime (besides aging and besides that woman in France who just had that face transplant)? How many people get to experience looking completely different for a while? Brushing my teeth and staring into a stranger's face is just one more thing my brain definitely still hasn't quite processed.