So...you're having a bad day. You've just discovered that your stupid, immature, waste-of-space ex-boyfriend has started seeing someone, and not just any someone, but the someone he rejected your request to get back together with him for (post some other ill-advised actions). You know full well that you are better than him, but no matter how much weight you've lost or how much he's put on (which he has), how many great friends you have and how good a time you're having, you still have to watch him swan around with his high-paying job that he doesn't deserve and his new girl who will, if she's got any sense, get sick of his childishness and selfishness quickly and move on, or, if she's far dumber than you are, will actually be capable of being made happy by him and make him happy, while you slave away seven days a week at two jobs while desperately applying for others, as you have been doing since you graduated (while he lazed around on jobseekers' allowance in his rich parents' house) it won't be made any better because if you're so much better than him, or her, why did he reject you?
And then you see this.
A young Meryl. Achingly, beatifically perfect. The most Oscar-nominated actor in history, incidentally.
And it's simultaneously comforting (because she's probably had to deal with this sort of thing too) and crushing that you'll never have cheekbones like that.