I do wish young people today felt a bit more comfortable in their own skin. I can’t imagine the pain some teenagers feel when they look in their mirrors and shudder at what they see. I am incredibly sympathetic to what these freaks must be going through. It’s sad.
Yet I can completely understand why they’re in such a state. As depressing as it is that youngsters are so insecure, I forgive them for it. Refusing to accept spots, chubbiness, and perspiration issues—hating the self while one’s hormones are going loco is pretty much par for the course, as Tiger Woods might say. I am very proud to admit that, when I was in all my pubescent glory, I was able to hold my head high despite the occasional epidermal mishap or hormonal eruption. (I know it may be hard for some of you to believe, but, yes, I haven’t always been perfect.) Partly because of my grandmother’s support and partly because of the blindingly obvious fact of my inherent superiority, even as a teenager I had an appropriately commendable sense of self-pride.
As I look at the little shits across the avenue trying to hide their self-hatred by harassing the passers-by, it’s clear they don’t possess the skills and talents I did at their age. This is understandable, because special people like me are few and far between. But where is their support? Do they not have family members or teachers to strengthen their confidence in the way my grandmother did mine? Of course, I know part of the problem is that many teenagers’ parents are no more than teenagers themselves and therefore they have very little to be proud of in their own lives, let alone succeed in passing any pride onto their children. I’m going to resist the temptation to dwell too much on this, though, as there’s little we can do, save mandatory sterilisation, to address this issue.
However, there is something we can do to help. And here, I address specifically our public figures. Those in the public eye should serve as role models of self-assurance. You never know—some mousy 13 year old may see a photo of a celebrity beaming with pride and be inspired to hate herself just that little bit less.
Most famous women are aware of this responsibility. They take their “look” a bit more seriously than our famous men. Women step up to the plate to demonstrate that, by looking classy and confident, they obviously do feel comfortable with who they are.
The men seem to struggle more. Probably the most photographed and talked about men in our country right now are the candidates for prime minister. Yet, neither one of them sends a very good message with their appearance and levels of confidence. I believe that Gordon Brown does not even want us to look at him—what is that communicating to us?
And the other one, well, just look at him. Both of their faces tell me, “Things are not too great all around”; if that’s what they say to me, god only knows what those faces say to the kiddies.
Recently I’ve st
umbled across this man, Christopher tells me he goes by the name of Nick Clegg. Now here’s a face that says, “I am who I am and am damn proud of it.” This is a face to lead a country, this is a face that would show young people that self-acceptance is a good thing. I’d like to get in touch with him to gauge his interest in joining politics as with a few suggestions from me, he might really be able to make a difference.
Many young people today need a little boost in the self-confidence department. Of course their parents should help them more, but we know we can’t always count on some kinds of people to do the right thing. That’s where the rest of us need to take some communal responsibility. Every time I am photographed or go out and about, I do so with a cool, calm certainty that I hope will motivate kids to feel as good about themselves as I do about myself. I’d like all adults, but definitely those in the public arena, to follow suit. I ask you, please, love yourselves and show the world you do. If you can’t do that for the rest of us, especially our young people, the least you could do is to just keep your face out of ours.
Everyone Needs an Algonquin 
Agatha’s Public Chimes In