Who needs Gok, Trinny or Susannah?

I confess, I’m not a Heat magazine reader and only pick up Hello magazine when I’m in the doctor’s surgery, but the British infatuation with celebrity infects us all a little.T
hat’s why I found myself sitting open-mouthed on my settee watching Katie Price on TV having around four sets of cosmetic surgery in as many days in LA.
Her desperate desire? Well, among other slight irritations tainting the body beautiful was the fact that her belly button stuck out a bit – and she hated it! Stoical hubby watched in despair, begging her to make this her last bout of surgery.
“I’ll do what I want,” she snapped. And she did. But I got that Whacko Jacko feeling as I looked at her strangely altering features. Constant surgical tweaking on the super attractive has a negative affect in my humble, plain Jane opinion.
And that’s when I started feeling relieved that I am ordinary. Relieved that I couldn’t give a stuff about my baby belly, flabby thighs, spot on my chin or the fact that the wrinkles are starting to blend into one giant network of cracks and bumps – a bit like the Grand Canyon.
Strangely, I have never scrutinised my belly button and felt waves of nausea at any perceived deformity, though I did find some fluff there once. Heaven help me!
Clearly, I am no glamour model relying on my looks to make a living, but the thought “too much money and time can make you completely barmy” did flash through my mind as I watched Katie positively enjoying yet another anaesthetic.
Years ago, when I went to my GP about having a bit of a lump removed she said: “Think long and hard because there is an element of risk with every operation. If you don’t really need it, if it’s only for cosmetic reasons, my advice would be don’t bother.”
Try telling that to image-obsessed celebrities as they head off for their fifth boob job.
I like to think that if I won the lottery tomorrow I’d stay completely grounded. Though I’d definitely buy a car to make Robbie Savage’s latest motor look dull, I wouldn’t jet off to LA for a Demi Moore-style makeover.
Take me as I am, lardy thighs an’ all. Plus, the fat keeps me warm in the South Stand at Pride Park.
What all women fail to realise until they are old and grey is that, actually, when they were young they looked pretty damn good – even without a scrap of make-up.
In the meantime, women of all ages appear far too ready to expose every inch of their bodies to scrutiny on national TV in the name of yet another makeover show.
Quite why the programme makers find it necessary to get, for example, lots of ladies with fuller figures to bend over in their undies to show us how big their backsides are is quite beyond me. Why women do it leaves me even more baffled. Everyone wants their 15 minutes of fame but naked bottoms!
I note that there is no male equivalent to this plethora of vanity-based shows. Instead the lads stick to watching the football or rugby. How wise they are. They don’t waste precious hours listening to Gok Wan telling women how to look good naked.
Now, conversely, Gok is presenting Miss Naked Beauty, a programme which gets women back to basics, stripping off the make-up to discover the beauty underneath together with that other vital key to attraction – personality.
The hunt is on for confidence, spirit, sex appeal, brains and beauty. Look no further Gok. You’ll find me in the South Stand at Derby County next Tuesday night, lardy thighs an’ all. Join me there and I’ll give you personality all right. No mascara necessary. In the meantime fellow women, young and old alike, do remember you are all brilliant. And you don’t need Gok, Trinny, Susannah, or even me, to tell you so.