Sunday, Jun. 30, 2002 | 10:03 a.m.

i was scared because i thought he liked girly girls. you know. the ones who spend more time getting ready than they spend actually doing anything. the ones whose fingernails are always painted and who wear miniskirts on the second date. the ones who only burp when they're drunk off their asses. [and even then they are cute.]

i'm not like that. i'm not a sizetwo and i don't know how to be pretty. i hate my legs and i have lovehandles. i haven't worn perfume since the ninth grade.

but i do know how to love. and i know how to give. and i know how to be grateful.

somewhere along the line, he noticed these things. he looked past the abhorred shell and into the compassionate heart.

i suppose. he liked what he saw.

let's sit in denny's for a ridiculous amount of time and smile at the people who are pointing at us.