I’m hardly Wonder Woman.

As an avid magazine reader, I flip through stories and opinions of every color on a monthly basis. There’s hardly any magazine these days that doesn’t contain some sensational tell-all article on survival.

But not to knock anyone.

With stories of Katrina shaking thousands of lives with President Bush at the helm of the S.S. Peril, poverty, disease and a slew of other problems on this planet, there’s surely untold stories of the strength of the spirit, the noble triumph of the body.

All of these adventures deserve to be told. But it makes me feel so left out.

What have I done that deserves any respect? I barely passed a pre-calculus class that started at 6:45 a.m. every day.

I’m trying to drop some pounds I gained this summer. I’m restricting myself to half a carton of Neapolitan ice cream instead of the whole carton. I drink Diet Coke–wait, scratch that-Coke Zero.

Oh, and here’s something that deserves mild applause: I stopped using my dad’s platinum credit card without his permission. That is, except when I overdraw on my checking account. That’s between you and me.

Big deal; so last year I was in the hospital for food poisoning. That beats having your brain blown to chunks in a country you’re not familiar with.

But which is worse: dying with heroic intention and the knowledge that you struggled and did the best your spirit could muster, or sitting on your cushy behind, trouble-free, watching late night talk shows every evening?

It’s a sick thought, but I wish life weren’t so much in my favor.

If I were born without a head, if I were the only kid in my family who couldn’t go to college, if I lived in a soup kitchen instead of a two-story condo, then maybe I’d feel worth my own while.

To not acknowledge the things I already have is just as selfish as anyone else who wants tons of money, a mansion by the beach or 500 significant others-slash-slaves.

Life has so many variable possibilities, one cannot possibly do everything or feel every emotion. It’s like those “Choose Your Own Adventure” books-except multiplied by infinity.

Some get dealt a full house, others get nothing. What that full house relates to when stepping out of the metaphor is a personal matter.

Gratitude is accepting what one is given, and accepting it with grace. The good life might not be a current reality. Change the dream to something more attainable, and maybe that dream has a chance to come true.

Maybe I’ll allow my own simple improvement of attitude to be just as awesome an action as those I read about in the magazines.