BEAUTY SHOP TALK

by

Vicki Charmaine Bunch

Everybody in Axel is talking about Ron Harris, the photographer who plans to auction off the eggs of fashion models on his website. Bids start at $15,000-$150,000. Men want young, beautiful women, reasons Harris. Gals want guys with bucks. "This is Darwin's 'Natural Selection' at its very best," says Harris on his website--www.ronsangels.com. "The highest bidder gets youth, beauty and social skills." Coming soon will be the Model Sperm Auction where the minimum bid will be $10,000-$50,000.

"This 'Celebrity Culture' that we have created does better economically than any other civilization in history," Harris writes. "Choosing eggs from beautiful women will profoundly increase the success of your children and your children's children for centuries to come." But even a freshman biology student knows the gene for beauty is attached to less desirable genes. These hidden genes surprise you when the kid is about three years old and, by then, you're already attached to it. The cuteness gene is invariably accompanied by the cussing gene, the smoking gene, and the running over the curb gene. It's also connected to the genes for spending $200 a week at Express, staying out past curfew and watching "Dawson's Creek."

Trust me, no one's egg is worth a hundred grand, not even mine. Despite having beauty queen looks and a Mensa brain, I suffer from a plethora of maladies. The terrible chocolate addiction, fear of escalators, and obsession with the number 10 that have made my life a living hell. I spend most of my time in the closet, on all fours, howling like a dog. Would you wish this on your child?

People are always coming up to me and asking for an egg. I tell them, "Beauty is a curse." Average women hate you if you're hot. They shoot at you. They let the air out of your tires. They prank call you 50 times a day.

As if you wanted their stupid husband!

Who gets blamed when some guy who's totally miserable in his pathetic, boring marriage decides to leave his bitchy wife? Who gets dirty looks for wearing a tube top to the mall? Is it my fault if men take one look at me and want to leave their wives? If truck drivers see me in their rear view mirror and run off into a ditch?

Still, some people get excited at the thought of having their own Jon Benet Ramsey. But how do you select from the thousands of available donors? Will it be the waifish heroin addict or the chubby bulimic? The perky girl next door or the exotic underwear model? If only you could order body parts separately from a catalogue!

There are no guarantees. Just look at the mothers of models--in their stretch pants and baggy Garfield t-shirts. Maybe someday doctors will be able to combine the legs of Betty Grable with the eyes of Elizabeth Taylor and Katharine Hepburn's waist size. Or the temperament of Lassie with the body of Naomi Campbell.

But, for now, the science is primitive. You could pay $150,000 for a super-model and wind up with breasts that have to be augmented, a nose that has to be lopped off, and thighs that have to be liposuctioned every January.

You could end up with a regular kid.