Underage eye candy

Puberty is a very unfair process, I think. All those uncontrollable changes, just when you are trying to find out who you are, and still care what everyone else thinks: no wonder some people come out the other end with baggage. I took the children, plus a friend, swimming today, to one of those flume-type leisure pools, and, as always, amused myself watching everyone else. There were a couple of 16 year olds, roughly: from the way they were behaving together,they must have been mates for a while. One was thin, gangly, with maggot-white skin, dark hair and a face that looked like Pompeii in action - simmering with acne from ear to ear, poor lad. His friend, about the same height, had a perfectly honed body, with a torso that from the rear was an inverted triangle - sculpted muscles narrowing to a tiny waist, like a Cretan bull dancer in a Mary Renault book, with golden skin (more or less literally), huge blue eyes and sandy coloured tresses in cornrows hanging down his back to his waist, almost. I am not exaggerating one tiny bit. He was just beautiful to look at. And the joy is, that I am now completely invisible to boys of his age in a swimming pool. There I am, 40, with no make-up and a matronly costume (and body under it), further obscured by a couple of seven-year olds, and I might as well have been transparent - not one of the teenage boys made eye contact with me at all. Which is excellent, because it means I can look at the scenery in peace. Twenty-five years ago, I'd have been too timid to look at them anyway, and curdled inside when builders wolf-whistled me as I walked past them on the street. I wonder if builders still do that to young girls, or if political correctness put paid to all that?
Anyway, being able to ogle the eye candy in an entirely safe way is a great benefit of being older. Give it another 20 years, and I may even be up to making ribald comments - who knows?