style single woman drew rueful laughs of recognition as she regarded a mirror with disgust.  "I hate my thighs," she sighed. "Mom's right; nobody's going to ever marry me like this."  It was a remarkable group to hear expressing pain over the pressure to look perfect, because a striking percentage of these women looked perfect. This group was classic Lincoln Park, professionally accomplished young women with sleek hair and fashionably tiny eyeglasses.  "People say our church looks like it's out of a J. Crew catalog," acknowledged Baker, 39, who wouldn't look out of place there herself.  But looks are deceptive, she said: "When you have to keep up a perfect life of how you look and how you dress and what car you drive and where you're shopping and where you're living--that is slavery."