“For me, without question and despite certain Oracle of Delphi moments concerning my own thighs, it was my belly. The belly that refused to turn into abs no matter how many crunches I performed or how few carbs I ate. (This obviously led to alternating phases wherin there were no crunches and only carbs, to soothe the pain.) Either way, the belly hung there over the edge of my otherwise fabulous low-slung jeans, rounded and spiteful, despite my best efforts. I was convinced the belly made me a troll. That it was disfiguring. That it was the outward evidence of my true inner unlovableness. No one could convince me otherwise.”
“Who’ll come lie down in the dark with me Belly to belly and knee to knee Who’ll look into my hooded eye Who’ll lie down under my darkened thigh?”
“Inside me! I gasp, and all the muscles deep in my belly clench. My inner goddess is doing the dance of the seven veils.”
“He gestured at me. “That’s Belly.”“Belly?” she repeated.“Yup. She’s my girlfriend.”I think I choked out loud.”
“I might have to drink the blood of animals to stay alive, but I would never feast on one of my own kind, no matter what Mr.Crepsley said, or hows much my belly growled.”
“Forget food for thought. Give me food for my belly.”