In the middle of a gym floor are two rows of metal fold-up chairs, stretched from one side of the gym to the other. In each chair sits a girl, all of them teenagers. In front of them stands a woman. She is young, perhaps in her twenties, perhaps older. She paces up and down in front of them. She turns to face them.

"Stand up if you think you are beautiful," she calls, in a rich, commanding alto. She begins to pace again. This is a pattern with her. To address her audience, she stops and faces them. When she is not speaking, she is pacing.

A few girls stand hesitantly. They look around. They sit down.

"Fair enough," she says, as if she had expected this. "How many of you, if I came around and picked out which of you were beautiful and passed you by, would be offended?"

The girls look at each other, and the woman holds up a hand. "Answer in your heads, please. Dont tell me." She paces some more to let them think.

She stops, and looking over her shoulder, asks them, "Shall we try it?" Without waiting for a response, she continues. "I will come by to each of you. If I tell you to stand, please do so. Those left sitting are the ones who I do not consider beautiful."

She begins to walk through the girls, starting to her right in the front row. She touches the first girl on the shoulder.

"Impeccable fashion sense", she comments. "You are beautiful. Stand up." The girl stands, and the woman moves on.

"I love your hair, especially the color. It reminds me of my mother's home made brownies. My mother always cooked from scratch, you know. Please stand."
"Ive never seen eyes so green! Like spring grass, they are. Stand!"

She continues this way, down the entire row, pausing to say something personal about the beauty of each girl. Then she asks each of them to stand. The girls who she has not yet come to realize she is asking everyone to stand, and wait excitedly for the woman to compliment them. The woman reaches the last girl in the front row.

She passes her by.

The girls look at each other in shock. The girl that had been passed is certainly no less beautiful than any of the girls before her. Her long, chestnut hair hangs in braids down her back, and her large, sky-blue eyes look up in question. She remains seated, and the woman moves on to the next row. It seems as if she did not see the girl, as if she simply passed her by mistake. As the woman bends over the next girl and compliments her fiery red curls, the red-head stands and looks at the woman.

"Um, excuse me..." She whispers tentatively.

"Yes?" replies the woman warmly. She surely wouldnt have missed the girl on purpose.

"Um, I believe you missed that girl at the end there... the one with the braids..."

The woman laughs and shakes her head, not even pausing to look. "Of course I didn't miss anyone. I can see every beautiful girl in this room. I wouldn't miss one. I'm an expert at spotting beauty, you know. Now don't be silly."

The redhead nods, concerned, puzzled, defeated, and remains silent.

The woman continues through the second row until all the girls are standing except one.

She then returns to her post in front of the standing mass of girls. She looks at them. The girl who is still seated is practically in tears. The woman walks over to her.

"Why are you not standing?" she asks.

"You - you - didnt tell me to," says the girl, her voice shaking.

"Do you really need me to tell you that you are beautiful?" she asks. The other girls are listening intently.

The sitting girl looks up at the woman inquisitively, caught between feeling hurt and relieved. The question hangs in the air. Then, the girl's expression solidifies, as if she has decided something. She looks the woman in the eyes, and stands up.

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