Bagels and bulge, continued

The thing that really struck me, reading the NYT first (and second) chapter of Mireille Giuliano's book, was that, back in 11th grade, I wrote a short story set at a NYC family's Thanksgiving dinner, at which the server is a chubby Frenchwoman named Mireille. At the dinner, the American guests all marvel at how skinny Mireille is, blinded by their belief in the French paradox to the fact that she is, in fact, heavy.

I should also note (in true procrastinatory fashion, as after noting whatever I'm about to note, I'm heading to the stacks) that, for breakfast this morning, I had a pain au chocolat at Hyde Park's own Bonjour Bakery. My jeans feel looser already!