If you work in television, you can’t really complain about work to other people. One of the reasons is the outdated assumption that everyone on air is paid loads. But the opposite is true – aside from a few people at the top, often the industry gives off the vibe that employees should be paying them for the privilege of being on air. The other reason is that while telly is hard work, at the end of the day we’re hardly going down the mines. Which actually does pay well and is a job more young people seem to aspire to than getting their mug on the TV.
But it‘s too late for me to learn a trade or to drive a big digger, especially when I can’t even reverse-park a Yaris in a generous spot. So TV journo it is.
My biggest and silliest gripe since returning to television full time in the past few months is that it‘s now a professional requirement that I care about my appearance.
People don’t trust you when you deliver information in your boyfriend’s under-20s GAA jersey with biscuit crumbs down the front, even if this outfit allows me to operate at my peak function. Instead, I’d say a good 15 per cent of my daily brain function is taken up with what am I going to wear, what‘s clean, what did I wear two days ago, what have I left at the dry cleaners a month ago and forgotten about, and so on.
[ Brianna Parkins: I’m sick of being asked why I don’t have kidsOpens in new window ]
Then there’s the eternal dilemma between an extra hour’s sleep and freshly washed hair. Can I get another day out of it? Or is there so much dry shampoo in there that there’s a chance it might turn to glue if it rains? If I put another round of hairspray on these curls will they eventually just snap off in a stiff wind? It‘s a high-risk, high-reward situation. Luckily, slicked-back ballerina buns are in fashion. We have to be thankful for small mercies.
Women don’t want to be vain, but from birth we’re taught the price of ignoring our appearance, of not playing the game, is too high. We saw the commentary on female politicians, athletes and media personalities. We’ve heard it in our personal lives. The whispering of how so and so has “let herself go” or “doesn’t make an effort”. The majority of audience emails and letters I have received have not been about the quality of my journalism or the questions I’ve asked in an interview. They’ve been about what I wore and the state of my hair.
Botox could improve my career prospects by freezing my facial expressions, which tend to uncontrollably mirror whatever is going on in my head
During Covid I was due to interview a female health expert who had decades of experience and education. She was the smartest person in the room doing amazing work in a time of crisis. But we still had a discussion about whether she should lie in or get up early to wash her hair for the segment. As she put it, even though people should be focusing on the words coming out of a person’s mouth, they judge the hair and the face it belongs to.
Even the strongest of us can be turned by seeing themselves in HD every day. The handy thing is, if you miss a chin hair in the bathroom mirror, the studio lights will pick that up no problem. You start seeing more and more wrong with yourself. My Google search history is a cry for help. It now contains gems such as, “When is too young for a facelift?”
I’m not against tweakments or those who chose them. I think Botox could really improve my career prospects by freezing my facial expressions, which unfortunately tend to uncontrollably mirror whatever is going on in my head. Imagine where I’d be in life and love now if I didn’t have the ability to frown! Except I enjoy it too much. I love being able to say “Are you well?” with only my eyebrows so I can deploy it against people playing TikToks at full volume on their phone on the bus. Who am I to take away the gifts God gave me?
Lately I’ve been investigating the gateway drug of teeth whitening. TV-people teeth are straight and white while mine are neither. They’re potentially the biggest indicator of my socioeconomic background, given I am also missing one. A viewer once described them as “tea-stained”, which is the closest I’ve ever had to a man write poetry about me. I’ve been getting quotes to have them whitened at the dentist and none of them have offered a discount despite the fact they’ll have one less to do. Maybe this is the path to self-acceptance: feeling ripped-off enough to stay unattractive.
