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First of all, let's get real. It's the bod.
Face it, for every ectomorphic Keanu, sleek Leo, and all the clones, there is only one Ariel.
When a girl hovers, delicately, hummingbird-like, half-hesitantly on the threshold of womanhood, casting those first furtive glances along the fragrant path of maidenly blushes, what she wants is a man with a stomach big enough to protect her, teach and guide her, big enough, if necessary, to hollow out and store all her clothes.
And it's his hair. Only his hairdresser knows for sure if what's left of it is really that white, but what is certain is that its brightness sends stars into the eyes of many a pert young miss.
Last but not least, everybody knows that teenaged girls love bad boys. Leader of the Pack, Ruler of the School, Butcher of Beirut.
Any truth to those secret negotiations between Tel Aviv and Sanrio, and we just might be seeing some very adorable plump little pencil pouches this school year, but that's on the hush-hush!
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