People think comedians are confident but I felt horrifically ugly as a teen, says Sara Pascoe
WHEN it comes to comedy, there’s a bit of a misunderstanding – people assume comedians are very confident, so when they meet us, they’re disappointed in how needy we are!
As a teenager, I was outwardly confident, but I considered myself horrifically ugly.
Everyone else seemed so pretty, while I felt clueless about make-up and clothes.
It never stopped me wanting to perform – I’d put on school assemblies that no one asked for and do gymnastic moves in the living room – but inside, I thought the boys in Essex, where I grew up, would rather vomit than kiss me.
Aged 14, I joined the drama group Theatre Box, and discovering there was a world outside of school gave me a deeper sense of self-belief.
One day, when I was feeling a bit plucky, I auditioned for Michael Barrymore’s TV show My Kind Of People.
I’d rehearsed my song along to the radio, but when I arrived at Whiteleys shopping centre in west London, there was a pianist with sheet music, rather than a recording.
Hundreds of shoppers, bags in hand, watched as I failed to chime in on time. I cried. The crowd was kind, but for years I licked my wounds.
Reflecting on it now, I’m grateful I tried – I didn’t know what I was doing, but I did it anyway.
After a break-up in 2007, I started doing stand-up. I was heartbroken and thought: “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Ever since, through every phase of my life, I’ve laughed at my failures and disappointments.
My job is my private life. Whether it’s finding a boyfriend, experiencing infertility and IVF, and now having sons [Theodore, two, and Albie, seven months] who don’t sleep.
By oversharing with strangers, I’ve realised that my experiences are universal. That’s reassuring, and it’s gradually built up my self-confidence.
I don’t get hooked on a good review, and I’ve realised that worrying about what critics or other comics think is a waste of time. Now, I have a much gentler self-belief.
If I do have a wobble, [comedian] Aisling Bea gave me a little onyx dog to take on stage with me, which is meant to soak up any negativity — and it works.
Becoming a new mum can massively knock your confidence.
It takes a while until you feel “normal” again, but even small, everyday things are wins, like brushing my teeth!
When I was filming the second season of BBC’s Last Woman On Earth [in which Sara travels the globe to tackle the world’s most endangered jobs], I took Theodore with me as he was only four months old.
When it’s your first child, you’re so desperate not to lose your career, especially if you’re self-employed.
Filming for 12 hours a day while someone else looked after my baby was hard, but I got the job done, which I’m really proud of.
After Albie was born last October, I spent a lot of time looking in the mirror, asking myself: “Who’s this scarecrow living in my house?”
Just the other morning, I dropped Theodore off at nursery, with Albie strapped to me.
Afterwards, a stranger who must have spotted me, DMd me on Instagram to check I was OK. I was fine, it was just 7:30am and I’ve got two kids!
In every couple, there’s a balance. When it comes to my husband Steen [Raskopoulos, 36, a comedian] he’s the one who says: “It’ll be OK.”
Becoming a new mum can massively knock your confidence. It takes a while until you feel ‘normal’ again, but even small, everyday things are wins, like brushing my teeth!
Sara Pascoe
We first met in Australia, before he moved to the UK for us to start a new life together.
Through IVF, and now two kids, I get a real sense that we’ve given 100% to doing this.
My self-confidence has mutated as I’ve grown older.
When you’re in your 20s, you often hate your looks.
Through my late-30s and 40s, I’ve taken the pressure off myself – I’m not a model!
Now there’s Instagram, everyone’s commenting on whether you look nice today.
But it’s also a choice – you can take that stress off yourself and remember what you have to offer isn’t based on your body size or whether you’ve got pillowy lips.
I’m not competing any more.
- Weirdo by Sara Pascoe (£9.99, Faber) is out now.