In the first few weeks of my husband wooing me, on my desk every morning I would find a Kit-Kat bar and a can of Coke. Later that year, I saw a photo of myself. The butt on the woman in the photo was not one I recognized. My mind’s eye hadn’t caught up with reality. The sedentary lifestyle of the desert and my slowing metabolism eradicated the vestiges of the Gandhian thin, ninety-nine pound, size zero wearing teenager who sailed through college and graduate school without exercise.