What must it be like?

Procrastinating at Starbucks this afternoon, I'm sitting near this young lady. (Have I mentioned how much I love my iPhone?) You can't tell from this picture, but she's studying for the GREs. She's also the epitome of "hot." Blonde, slim, full-breasted, snub-nosed, creamy-tan perfect skin, chicly-garbed, impeccably groomed right down to her pink pedicured toenails.

I can't imagine how different her experience of social interactions, particularly with men, must routinely be from mine. I could envy her youth and physical perfection, but on some odd level I'm profoundly grateful that my life has never been complicated by being a living embodiment of a cultural obsession.