“Pretending we are all beautiful is nonsense”

MY SISTER took me to a fundraising evening recently, up on the west coast of Ireland, where she lives.

It was organised by the school her children attend and advertised as a ‘BEAUTIFUL’ evening.

So at nine in the evening, I’m sitting at the back of a cold hall on a hard chair. This tends to induce instant boredom and demented fidgeting. Claustrophobic legs, my husband calls it.

“Sit still,” my sister whispers. “I’m trying,” I say and look around the hall. It is full of women. I look at the backs of their heads for a while and then at my watch.

An hour later, I’ve watched a hair-and-make-up makeover. Two ladies from the audience have volunteered for rigorous primping but I am not sure about the results. My claustrophobic legs start up again but they stop when an American image consultant bounces onto the stage. She is sparkly and shiny and just what we need, I think. There is a bristle of expectation in the room.

The American talks with evangelical zeal about beauty. “Self-confidence is the vital factor that underpins beauty,” she tells us. “It is transforming.”

And now, she’d like to demonstrate how this principle works. To this end, she asks us all to roar “I’m beautiful!” at her. When the response comes back in a sort of hesitant sotto voce mutter, she gets into her stride and exhorts, “Louder, ladies, louder!”

We whoop it up a bit. “Louder, ladies, louder,” she says again. After our third attempt, the transforming powers are not in evidence; we all look the same. However, we have obliged her with a sufficiently noisy response so we are allowed to stop. This is fortunate, because I’m struggling with a temptation to shout something profane and unprintable back at her!.

What a load of utter nonsense, I think. Let’s say, for example, a speaker demands that we all scream ‘I’m fantastic at sums!’ with a view to boosting our self-esteem. I’m barely numerate. If my children need help with their maths homework, they walk straight past me and ask their dad. I wouldn’t find this exercise helpful.

I’d also consider the speaker’s assumption that everyone is equally adept at long division ridiculous. Has it escaped this image consultant’s notice that the room is full of women who range in looks from the frankly gorgeous to the downright pudding-like?

Of course it’s nice for women to feel good about themselves but encouraging everyone to holler that they look like a goddess, is fudging the issue that not every woman is beautiful and to imagine otherwise is delusional rather than helpful.

Physical beauty is to do with genetics. Attractiveness is to do with everything else, like sense of humour, lively intelligence or a warm heart. We all know a cracking personality can inform a plain woman’s face with charm and allure. Obviously, a woman who knows her body shape and applies a bit of spit and polish is going to look vastly better than a woman who doesn’t. But it’s not going to change the physical basics.

The lady goes on to demonstrate the renovating powers of accessorised and structured underwear. Okay, I think, this is more to the point but I just wish she’d cut straight to it and bypass all the roaring. Surely healthy self-esteem is at least partly based on being able to make a realistic appraisal of one’s strengths and weaknesses. Life is unequal, fact. Some people can sing like a bird, while others sound like they’re drilling a hole in your brain. One person can dance while another has about as much coordination as a Thunderbird puppet.

Some women are beautiful, others are here and there on the pretty spectrum and the remainder are cross-eyed and stout. End of story. How is the situation helped by pretending otherwise? I scan the room; the average age of the audience is 40. At this age, most people know the difference between inner and outer beauty and have a fairly accurate idea of how much of either they possess. No amount of screaming is going to make a jot of difference. At 40 we know this (don’t we?) even if she doesn’t.

At the end of her presentation, she orders us to shout, one last time, ‘I’m beautiful!’ (“As loud as you can, ladies!”)

We take a collective deep breath before wearily responding. “I’m Beautiful!” we shriek.

After which, we clap and go home, some of us beautiful, others here and there on the pretty spectrum and the remainder, cross-eyed and stout.