I live a very glamorous life. At least, that's what you would think if you didn't know any better.

You've probably seen my type before — striding briskly through airports with a cell phone clasped to my ear, settling into first class as the gateway doors shut. Power breakfasting at New York's finer hotels with men in expensive dark suits and silk ties. Or perhaps reading the Wall Street Journal in the back seat of a Lincoln Town Car, heading south on the FDR Drive toward Wall Street.

You may even have seen me on a recent cover of Fortune magazine, posed in a crisply tailored black Armani with several other Yuppie-types under the caption "Wall Street's Next Generation: They're Young, They're Hungry, and They're Women."

My father had a copy of the cover blown up to postersize and framed; it hangs on the wall of his office, incongruous next to his numerous academic degrees. The article also inspired a long-distance lecture from my grandmother titled "You don't want to be one of those career girls, now, do you?" This was actually a welcome change from her usual repertoire,which includes such popular hits as "Have you met anyone nice?""My dentist has the most handsome new associate," and (my personal favorite) "I just want to go to a wedding before I die."

I am an investment banker for the new millennium. Forget the movies you've seen — Michael Douglas with his hair slicked back in Wall Street or Sigourney Weaver in Working Girl.This is a kinder, gentler era. We talk to our clients about managing the transition to a global economy and relationship-driven banking. The partners at Winslow, Brown, the firm I've called home for the better part