IT'S A DAD'S LIFE:We're born thinking we're special, then the world tells us we're not
LOW SELF-ESTEEM leads to obesity, says a report from King’s College, London. Particularly for girls. Mmm, another thing to worry about. Or not.
There are two elements to these results: obesity and low self-esteem. Obesity is a problem, but only if you consistently absorb more calories than you expend.
So, it’s a problem in the same way as poverty is, if you consistently spend more money than you earn. One of your own or, in a child’s case, your parent’s, making. Simple solutions for both: spend less; stop eating chocolate cake.
Self-esteem is a little trickier, but my confusion stems from people’s attitudes to low self-esteem. Isn’t this something we all suffer from? Isn’t this something we have been taught is right? Sit in a group and float the question: Who here has high self-esteem?
Chances are if anyone raises their hand it’ll be the brittle geezer of invisible self-awareness, zero tolerance and the sensitivity of a central-African dictator. We are a nation, a planet of self-underminers.
Hang on, what about the Yanks? Barack has them all stirred up, reigniting their unified belief that they are single-handedly responsible for telling the world what’s right. Surely their egos are salved. Barack, at least, is comfortable in his own skin.
Maybe so, but even though I was impressed with that health reform speech I couldn’t get over the clapping and the whooping. In the YouTube clip, it took him three minutes and 12 seconds to work through the backslappers and on to the podium. It was another two minutes before he could quell the cheers and utter a word.
What were they clapping for? Because he was there? Because they were there? Because they knew we were watching? What? Why couldn’t he get up, speak, and they have the whoop-up love-in afterwards? If you’re that self-confident and assured, why the need for whoop?
And with all the hollering and ‘Ah shucks, our brave acts have pulled this great country back from the brink’ going on, it was most difficult for these tired, cynical, Irish ears to accept what was being said as anything other than marketing blah.
This isn’t because I distrust Obama. On the contrary, like most people I regard him as a shining star in a murky sky. Nor does the American tendency towards self-aggrandising pomp bug me. When in its midst, I am overwhelmed by its humanity and potency. It has a rousing effect that can lead to, in the most basic sense, things getting done.
Still, watching it from afar, even when it’s at the opposite end of the spectrum to those appalling Ryder Cup fans and their “USA! USA!” chants, leaves me cold.
I and, I bet, you have been imbued with that European self-deprecating factor. From the moment we could utter the phrase, “I’m good at this”, we are told not to. We absorb this, we take our success and sense of self-achievement and push it down as if it were bad.
We don’t allow bragging and yet only one thing annoys us more: the obviously brilliant person claiming mediocrity.
We are a paradox of self-esteem. It’s a wonder, if we take the King’s College researchers at their word, that we aren’t rolling from McDonalds to Burger King in an ongoing French-fried frenzy.
Swimming lessons started up again and the instructor suggested we put the elder in the advanced group. I noted from the list that most kids on it were a couple of years older than her. My heart swelled with pride and then smacked itself, vowing not to inform the child of her promotion in case she would wax on about her ability. We couldn’t have that.
I checked with the instructor if the child was ready for that rarefied atmosphere. She informed me the elder has “perfect technique” and with a little work would have no problem keeping up.
Yes. The Olympics in 2020 beckon. Of course, I kept this all to myself and told the kid she’d be starting class next week if there was room for her.
Andre Agassi was batting tennis balls on a string in his cot. Aged three, Tiger Woods shot 48 over nine holes at the Navy Golf Club in California. I doubt their parents were telling them it’s not all about winning, it’s the taking part that counts.
Everyone is born thinking they’re special, that the world revolves around them. Then the world insists you’re average and points you back into your box. We’re bred for low self-esteem and yet, somehow, most of us can still manage to see our own toes.
abrophy@irishtimes.com