Remember when Victoria Secret first came out with the Miracle Bra? You never needed it, but the moment they launched their Miracle Bra bathing suits you had one in your hands.

We all laughed when you tried it on. I think I commented that you now had a shelf on which to rest your drink…and suntan lotion…and my drink…and my suntan lotion. You brushed me off and proudly announced that your mom declared it the “two-carat” bikini–as in you were going to land a 2 ct. diamond engagement ring by wearing it on the beach.

I always knew that wasn’t what was going to do it. You know why?

Late one night out on the beach very much into our cups, you made some comment about needing to follow the campground rules. As usual, we all started calling you out.

“Once a sorority President, always a sorority president.”

“My mom said ‘Don’t go on the Potomac. It’s dangerous on the Potomac.'”

“You’re such a MUFFIN!”

You turned to me, now a college graduate, and tried to look me straight in the eye and slurred,

“I may be a muffin on the outside, but I’m a jalapeno PEPPER on the inside.”

I’m pretty sure I aspirated a marshmallow at that point.

So yesterday, as I sat here hundreds of miles away from the hospital where doctors were removing your breasts–and with them the cancer that was attacking them–I calmed my nerves and even smiled knowing that 2 ct boobs or not, you will always be a jalapeno pepper on the inside.

And NO doctor will ever be able to remove that.