"Let me help," she said at last. "You're hopeless. I'll drive you back toBobbie's."I must have looked confused."Your cousin," she said. "That's what w... call her here." She wiped themess off of my lips."You don't want that one, anyway. Let's try something less, um, tarty forthe day."She traced my lips with a pinker color, dithered for what felt forevergetting dressed herself, fussed with her keys when we finally steppedoutside; her neighbor was still there, his paper finished. I saw him spotme,. I began to think to myself, "Why have I put up with these oversized udders for so long? And after all, Samantha's right. This is my body. And if I don't have to live with these gigantic breasts, then why should I?" While my mind was so affected (and infected) by Samantha's extremely convincing breast-reduction sermon, I was even more unprepared for what lay ahead in the following days.I had scheduled a meeting with Dr. Lois Scheinbaum, Samantha's and Jolene's plastic surgeon, two weeks from. More

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