Samantha Brick is not that pretty. Look, I’m sorry to have to say that, and I really don’t like commenting on a woman’s looks like that, but when you write an article about how hard it is being so beautiful, you make the question of your looks material to the case. That’s just how it is.
She’s not bad looking, to be sure. In good shape for someone her age, no doubt, but not beautiful. Not even really pretty. I know many women about her age who are much better-looking, and who, more importantly, would never be so narcissistic as to drone at length about how terrible it all is and why the ugly women won’t just accept the fact that they can’t get as far in life.
She reminds me a little of the character Jenna Maroney on the television show 30 Rock, both in looks (Brick is a bit plainer) and in vanity. She begins her column talking about how strangers buy her wine, and she proceeds to give quite a good whine of her own. She closes by saying:
Perhaps then the sisterhood will finally stop judging me so harshly on what I look like, and instead accept me for who I am.
I suspect you really don’t want that, lady. For some unaccountable reason, this makes me think of Bill Cosby’s quote about cocaine.
Speaking of which, Baltimore Ravens quarterback Joe Flacco–who, curiously, has the same mustache as Samantha Brick’s husband–has said he’s the best quarterback in the league. He has not, alas, been given an entire column in Sports Illustrated or The Sporting News to explain his new quarterback rating system, but on the plus side, I bet more people have watched him fail to beat Manning or Roethlisberger or Brady in the play-offs than read The Daily Mail.
There is a difference between “believing in yourself”, or “having confidence” and just acting like you’ve lost your grip on reality in thinking about how great you are.