A computer image on the screen showed a faint green 3-D outline of a woman, against a black background. A bunch of graphic text flashed across the screen, like it was supposed to be a computer or something, and an image of the perfect little feet appeared in the proper place.

"Now for the legs!" said the announcer. It all started again with 40 women wearing bathing suits to show off their legs beginning to parade for him again.

Each one had a fake looking smile on her face, although a few did look sincerely shy. Each of us girls put down the veggie dip, and slid our margaritas away from us, after we thought about our own legs, and looked at the ones strutting on stage.

If I could work out 8 hours a day for 2 years, I might get something close to those legs. In the real world, unless you're one of those really annoying women who never put on any weight, the first place it goes is to your thighs. Yet all 40 of these chicks had the nerve to show off perfect looking legs.

"I don't know about you, but I'd trade my legs right now, for *any* of those" I said.

"Oh quit with the legs! You're always whining about your legs!" said Mindy.

"Just wait until we get to the arms. You'll be sorry Miss 'I'm getting matronly upper arms'!" I shot back.

"Ouch! Now hitting below the belt" said Shirley.

"She started it" I countered. We all clinked margarita glasses, giving in to our urge to forget our sorrows. We never looked that good anyway, even when we were 18 year old girls.

Carl 'the dork' went through the parade, and predictably picked 5 finalists with really long legs. Guys never do like short girls, do they? Looking at that many close ups of gorgeous legs, I felt a sudden urge to get out my Nair. I felt icky, comparing myself to the perfection on the screen. And none of them had spider veins like poor Pamela had.

Carl picked the best legs, and the computer image did its thing again. A bunch of 'computer noises' played as the screen updated (my computer never goes beep bloop blip like that!). The graphic now showed the perfect legs atop the perfect feet.

"That's all for this edition of The Best Pick" said the announcer. "See you next time!"

* * *

"I hate that show" said Pamela, one week later. "It objectifies women, and makes a meat market out of picking a partner. It is immoral and..."

"Its 8 o'clock!" cut in Mindy.

"Hurry, turn it on!" said Pamela.

Tonight was going to be fun. They were picking hands and arms. Time for my revenge on Mindy, for making fun of how sensitive I was about my legs. I guess when you come down to it, every woman is sensitive about *something*. Her age if nothing else!

"Just wait until these babes on the TV get older. They'll see what its like" I said, rubbing my hands together. They'd get old too.

"But I think they can afford plastic surgery, if they're rich enough to keep themselves in that good of shape" said Shiela.

"It's not fair!" I said. Humph.

I don't know what makes one woman's hands look better to a man than another's, except for our nails. Each of the contestants of course had a perfect manicure, no cuticle problems, and a glossy paint job on her nails. If only mine would look that good for more than one day after I get my nails done.

In the real world, where you have to do dishes, chop celery, do the laundry, clean the house, weed the garden...something is always messing up your nails. Gee, I guess I'm sensitive about that too.

Carl picked his ideal hands, then he picked the best arms. So far, he had picked 4 body parts from 4 different girls. So there, none of them were perfect!

The last selection that night was hair. And (big drum roll), he picked of all things...a blonde. Duh! I could have told you! The chick from Hawaii always rules in the talent contest, the dark haired one might win the evening gown competition, but its always the blonde that they pick in the end, isn't it?

She had hair to die for, so full and long, and just curly enough.

"I couldn't do that with my hair if I spent 2 hours on it" said Pamela.

"I couldn't stand my hair that long to begin with" said Shirley.

"I couldn't stand being a blonde!" said Mindy.

I guess we women always like to cut down a babe who looks like those contestants do. We hate them for being so darn perfect. Its not fair!

The computer graphic filled in a full head of blond hair on Carl's ideal woman. We had to wait another week to see what would happen.

* * *

The next week was a little slow for me. Carl picked a chin, nose, ears, and face. They were all really pretty, and I guess that I would get a nose job if I was super rich, but it was too tedious for me.

I had to wait until the next week for some fun. First, he picked a voice. He skipped the sultry rasp (read 'heavy smoker') of some girls, and the high pitched whine of others. He ended up liking one with a slight southern drawl, and a mid-alto voice. Very pleasant to listen to. Not a bad choice Carl.

And now was the moment we were all waiting for: the bust competition. We all wore our best pushup bras, and tight shirts so that we'd all feel good about ourselves.

But no pushup bra with water or gel to add a cup size is much when compared to really big ones. Of course, some of these girls might have had some 'enhancements' from what they were born with. But most of them were unbelievable!

It made me feel like a schoolgirl again. You know how when you're in high school, you sit next to one girl who develops early, way before you do? So you feel like you're still at the 'fried egg' stage, and she is stacked. And when you feel proud that you've moved up a cup size, she's still way bigger than you. It makes you feel so inadequate!

So we all stared at the boobs, gasping at how some of them defied gravity. Some of them just had to be fake. They didn't jiggle. I wondered if guys would care how they felt in their hands, or if they only judged us on size.

"Lets get boob jobs after the show" said Shirley.

"I'm in" I said.

We all laughed. If we just had $25,000 each for a good surgeon (and a trip to LA to see him). And to make a few other emergency repairs...

Anyway, Carl was almost drooling when he picked the best pair of tits in the end. Big, firm and full. Actually, we all agreed that they were *too* big.

"I couldn't jog with those!" said Mindy.

"If they bounce, that girl would fall over" said Pamela.

"My baby would by happy though" I said. "There would be enough to drink for five."

"Imagine having those on you. If you lean forward, you'd fall over" said Shiela.

"I couldn't play tennis if I was like that" said Pamela. "I'd never be able to swing a racquet."

We all made fun of her. We all hated her for having bigger breasts than we did. We were jealous, but we pitied her too, if that makes sense.

The computer image updated, and it now showed Carl's ideal woman. We had to admit that his Frankenstein turned out to be gorgeous. She would pass for a super model any day of the week. With her long legs and arms, the massive boobs didn't look too overwhelming (although there was enough cleavage that a man could get lost down there for days, needing a rescue party to pull him back out). Her big hair went with her face, and she had just enough curves.

"Maybe he isn't a dork after all" said Shirley.

"No, he'll blow it, I bet" I said. I never liked him, that smug look on his face.

"Next week, Carl will come fact to face with the woman of his dreams. But there is a twist..." said the announcer teasingly.

* * *

We all looked forward to the next week, where Carl would meet the girl of his dreams. We wondered how they could get someone that fit the exact specifications that he had cooked up.

"Through the latest science of molecular biology, you can take carbon molecules, and rearrange them as you see fit" said the announcer. "Building on this basic concept, things larger than a molecule can be manipulated too. Like cells."

The screen showed a picture of a sunflower. A button was pressed, and the view became all blurry. When it cleared, instead of a sunflower, the picture showed a rosebush.

"Using Carl's input parameters, we will rearrange the molecules in a person to meet his exact specifications. The twist is, Carl does not realize that he knows the person who we will be rearranging. Find out who it is after these important words from our sponsor."

Great, another set of commercials. Whenever they get to something good, they cut away. We all hated commercials, and vowed never to buy whatever product they showed next.

Unfortunately for us, the first ad was for Nair, so we vowed to boycott whatever they showed next. Unfortunately for us, the second ad was for Visa. Drat. So much for vows. Oh well, we would boycott Monday Night Football or something like that instead.

The show came back on, and we were all on the edge of our seats to see what would happen.

"Are you ready Carl?" asked the announcer.

"Sure thing Matt. I can't wait to meet her."

"You're going to be very close to her Carl, how does that make you feel?"

"Wonderful! I am so excited!"

"Lets go!" said the announcer. The camera zoomed in on Carl's eyes, as he stared at the image on the computer screen of the beauty he had just created over the past few weeks.

He kept staring, and the camera zoomed in closer and closer. It got all blurry for a few moments, then began to back off. Mindy was the first one to notice it.

"Oh my god, they zapped him."

"No way!" I said.

"Yes they did! Look, that's the nose he picked out."

"And look at his hair!"

The camera kept panning back. Carl had no idea yet what had happened to him.

"He's got those huge boobs" said Shirley.

"And those legs" added Shiela.

They showed Carl from full length. He was now the woman he had created on the screen! And he didn't even know it. The molecules in his clothes had been changed too, so he was now wearing an evening gown, along with sexy shoes.

"Don't say anything Carl, because here she is, your ideal woman, Cara!"

The curtain drew back, showing a mirror to Carl. But he did not realize yet that it was a mirror. And he did not realize that what he was seeing was in fact an image of his new body. His new *female* body.

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