There you were in the checkout line ahead of me in the 24-hour supermarket on Windsor. Your beautiful face, with its perfect peaches and cream complexion, was framed by your beautifully styled and cut reddish-brown hair. Your figure was shown off tastefully in your Lululemon stretch pants and white sweater. I was entranced by your sophisticated look, your natural beauty, your lovely green eyes and your perfect smile. Your purchases were even worthy of note -- the organic veggies, the lactose-free milk, the dried fruit and nut mix, everything healthy and nutritious, no junk food for you. You obviously are intelligent enough to have a good job to pay for the premium food and clothing. Then you opened your stylish purse to pay for your purchases and there it was, incongruously -- the pack of Benson and Hedges you are never without. Why? I can forgive dabbling in the habit during your university days, but you are undoubtedly on the other side of 30 now. You know better. Why, dear beauty, why? My illusion disappeared, like a puff of the smoke with which you befoul your no-longer-perfect lungs. The inconsistency you demonstrate by your choices baffles me.