 I am not an angel. I am not Lane Bryant's antithesis of an angel either. I am not the sum of my appearance in underwear. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. The fullness of my whole being, my thighs, my mind, my smile, my friendship, my ideas, my desire, my inquisitiveness, my taste buds, and even my hair. I don't need any Madison Avenue advertising campaign to tell me who I am.