The ugly face of Beauty: Samantha Brick

I'll go ahead and say it. I was an ugly child. I improved a little, as you can see- still a bit rough around the edges and carrying a few extra pounds I'm desperately trying to shift- but a vast improvement on my teenage self. If I'm honest, my own appearance has always been something that consumes me- I think, however, that this is true of most women. If we're not tanning ourselves, crash dieting and moaning about the size of our calves, we're taking more serious measures in the form of plastic surgery or gastric bands. Admittedly, the media's portrayal of celebrities has a lot to do with it. Has anyone ever noticed that newspapers such as The Daily Mail and The Sun describe women more often that not by their dress sizes? Usually regardless of what the article is about. With celebrities plastered on the front of magazines, slated for being 'too fat' or 'too skinny', it is clear that a woman's appearance has never been more discussed.

Which is why I was shocked on Monday morning to be faced with this article. Entitled 'Why women hate me because I'm beautiful', the sensationalist headline spoke for itself. Written by Daily Mail journalist Samantha Brick, the article read like a life story one might find in the 'Tragic lives' section of WHSmith. Only Samantha wasn't claiming to be psychically abused or reviled, instead she was expressing her heartache at what she considered to be her 'pleasing appearance' and how this had affected her life- i.e: it had caused her no end of hardship.

Inexplicably, this woman seemed to think that it was her 'attractive' appearance that led her to have little or no friends, rather than her unpleasant manner and shocking arrogance. It is not surprising that the feature was inundated with comments- most harshly directed at her- and that even twenty-four hours later, her name is still trending on Twitter. Even celebrities and well-known names have directed their anger at her- with Lauren Laverne tweeting ' Why do people WRITE articles like this?'  and Derren Brown stating that 'I wish I had such an inflated view of my looks!' 

I think it is fair to say that British women are notoriously self-deprecating. Tell the most beautiful woman in the world what she really looks like and she'll refuse to take the compliment, muttering away about her imperfect thighs or the fact her eyelashes are shorter than she'd like. From this angle, it could be thought that Samantha Brick's perception on her own appearance is refreshingly positive. She works out, looks after her body and is confident in herself. However, whilst confidence is attractive in anyone- arrogance is not. Whilst Samantha is entirely obsessed with her own appearance, she seems to have a very low opinion of others. Yes, she is delusional (for someone claiming to be the most beautiful woman in the world she leaves a lot to be desired), but that is by the by. What is really important is that the 'sisterhood' that she so frequently rants on about is almost non-existent in her world. Because she doesn't behave in a sisterly manner whatsoever. Perhaps instead of harping on about her perfect appearance, she ought to gain a sense of perspective and become a little more down-to-earth. If she's lucky, she might even gain herself some friends. 

Are we wising up to the crying game?

The sob story. It is a modern phenomenon. Honestly, ask anyone over the age of forty five and they’ll tell you that no-one did as much bellyaching in the good old days as they do now. The British, of course, were famous for their stiff upper lip and keep calm, carry on attitude. Back in wartime, a strong cup of tea and a hot bath was known to cure almost anything. It seems however, that this is no longer the case. If we’re not moaning on about our dodgy internet connection or dwindling bank balances, we’re complaining about the slow service in restaurants or the price of milk. Of course, no-one remembers rationing. 
And then there’s the crying. Public displays of emotion can now been seen everywhere. ‘Reality’ (ahem) shows are the worst culprits. If I’m not seeing a grown man bawl his eyes out after a spot of ballroom dancing, I’m subjected to the tears of a brainless woman on a cookery show whose macaroons have failed.  X Factor is of course, the guiltiest of them all. There isn’t a weekend that goes by that isn’t filled with the tears of hopeful contestants droning on and on about their ‘dream’, accompanied by an obligatory Adele song in the background. A prime example is that of  Soldier boy Jonjo, otherwise known as ‘that bloke with a hat.’ The guy is emotional gold for the X Factor team! Fought in Afghanistan? Check. The father of small children? Check. Singing a tear-inducing version of a Stereophonics song? Check. Except, whilst the frankly disturbing image of him wailing into his trilby won him a place in the live shows with Louis, the general public couldn’t be fooled. Moaning of the false nature of the show, they became wise once again to the power of the sob story and booted him from X Factor last Sunday.
It isn’t just reality television shows, either. Things became ridiculous when just the other week, I watched daytime favourite This Morning, only to be greeted with Holly Willougby blubbing through an interview with Sesame Street’s Elmo. Get a grip woman, I longed to scream! It’s a bloody puppet! Others noticed the newly overemotional Holly, too. I logged into my Facebook page, faced with a status update from a friend: “I know Holly Willoughby has just had a baby, but she needs to man-up and stop crying.” Ashamedly, I swiftly clicked the ‘like’ button.
Whilst we British have become those that wallow in misery, we also realise that the sentiment presented to us by the media is very often a false one. I, like many others like to have a quick browse through the Tragic Lives section in WHSmith. Books, stacked on top of one another with generic title such as ‘Please Daddy, not again!’ and ‘Special.’ Enlightening stuff. Whether it’s the shock factor or the blatent morbid thrill, these books are selling as fast as they can be written. Need I say more?
What do you think? Should everyone stop moaning and get on with it, or have things changed for the better?