I distinctly remember feeling a shred of pity for the poor woman who, I believed, had it much worse than I did. After all, I've always had a decent figure and shapely legs that I consider to be my best feature. But as I continued scanning the story, I read something to the effect of "It could be worse: I could be an amputee...." Yup. While I was rejoicing that I wasn't shaped like her, she was thanking her lucky stars she was not missing a limb like me.
"Well, I turned out okay,"I said sheepishly.
"Oh Caitlin," she laughed. "But you're not Special Needs!"
I have no idea what "Special Needs" means to her, but it's nice knowing that the picture of me in her head is one that doesn't fit the category I've been placed in all my life.