"I hate myself when I look like this," the girl in the bathing suit moaned. She looked in the mirror critically. The face that looked back was actually very pretty, with its wide-set eyes and clear, smooth planes. Her figure was equally attractive; it had to be, to qualify for the finals of the Miss Outer Space contest.
"We all feel the same way," the redhead said sympathetically. "Oh, they're trying to be nice though. Captain Lester—you know him, the cute one with the freckles—he was really sweet. But these space jockeys just don't understand women, I guess." She sighed, but then smiled reminiscently as she recalled the captain's embarrassment upon showing the girls their quarters.
"Well, I'm sorry I ever came," said the other girl, tugging at her blonde curls with a comb. Her eyes blurred with tears.
"Hey, Cleveland!"
Another blonde, wearing an electric-blue sweater, scurried over to the unhappy girl. Her face was lit with excitement, and her high heels clicked enthusiastically. "Can I borrow your Chanel?" she said.
"What for?" said the redhead sourly. "Got a date?"
"Maybe," said blue-sweater mysteriously.
"Janie!" The girl in the bathing suit caught her eyes in the mirror. "You can't do that," she said in a shocked voice. "It's against the rules!"
"Rules," Janie answered lightly, "are made to be broken." She sprayed the perfume on lavishly. "Besides, it's just for a walk. Some nice second-looie's going to show me around the spaceport."
"But they'll disqualify you if they find out," said the first blonde. "Is it worth it?"