A scientific study determines what truly average people look like. I then look at their findings and determine for myself that I am, based upon their image of average good looks, far below average. What little self-confidence I have is turned to dust. (All this time I thought of myself as average. I clung to that belief. Apparently, however, average isnt Clint Howard. Its a hot, yet a bit generic looking model.)
Meanwhile, in merry old England, beautiful people are insuring their looks, fearful of what might happen if they should slide toward the Maynard side of the scale.
(Actually, that last story, is quite pathetic. Its about a woman who, fearful that her husband will leave her if she begins to age, has insured her looks. According to her policy, if she should become unattractive to men, she will be given a certain amount of money that is to then be used for surgery. Her husband likes the idea.)
