In the florescent glare of that Florida bathroom, Kate and I stared at each other. My own front teeth were widely spaced, my belly was baby-round, and my hair was cut in a too-short bob that was totally unsuited to its thick, wavy texture. The pink splotch of lipstick over my mouth resembled a welt. Neither of us looked remotely grown-up or beautiful. In fact, we both looked deranged. We screamed with laughter.