I was rather distressed to read this week that according to a survey from the University of Vienna, older fathers are more likely to have unattractive children, due to the risk of genetic mutation. As someone who didn’t start breeding until I was 40 and at the age of 58 still have a seven year old, this is slightly disturbing, not to mention insulting.

However, I clearly buck the trend as all my four daughters are extraordinarily good-looking. Of course, most parents believe this, even the ones with little mutants, but in my case it happens to be true. I am proud that they are so physically attractive. But at the same time, I am rather ashamed of being proud, if that makes sense.

Physical appearance shouldn’t make any difference at all. But then, every parent has a double standard on this. We tell our children that it is the beauty inside that matters, not the outward appearance. Girls especially are liable to be informed on a regular basis by parents that they are pretty, in order to bolster their self-esteem – and perhaps the self-esteem of the parents. Whether it does so or not is a moot point – children quite quickly learn to discount any praise their parents give them as unreliable. But the question is, why do we feel the need to constantly reassure children about their physical attractiveness?

I have to admit that this is something of a personal issue for me. I was born sickly and with a cleft lip. Combined with parents and brothers who were much better put together, I have always been insecure about what I look like. I try to tell myself that it doesn’t matter. The only trouble is, that it’s a lie.

I remember very clearly – and the fact I remember it clearly surely indicates its meaning – asking my mother, when I was maybe five or six, if I was goodlooking. The long pause that followed, along with the rather faint utterance “Well, I think you are” told me everything I needed to know about my appearance. From then on I knew I had to rely on qualities other than my dazzling smile or glittering eyes to win the world over.

Of course it would be over-simplistic to suggest that the sense of professional ambition and drive I have always felt is a compensation for feelings of physical inadequacy. But there’s something in it. And strangely enough, any success I have had doesn’t compensate – not fully. This is the outcome of perceiving oneself as marred. Shallow though it might appear, I would rather have had striking good looks than any amount of talent with words. As survey after survey makes clear, the good-looking are happier, better thought of and have easier lives.

I’m sure that this has been true ever since the beginnings of civilisation. Our evolutionary instinct inclines us towards even features, healthful-looking skin, and a good physique, to ensure the procreation of the species.

In modern times, the demands of story, both in fairytales – handsome prince and beautiful princess – and dramas, still require physically attractive players. The top 20 best-paid Hollywood actors may not have a lot in common. But they are all, without exception, very good-looking. This is because their job is to fulfil fantasies of what we wish to be.

So I shall carry on telling my children that they are beautiful. It happens to be true, but I would tell so them even if it weren’t. As girls, they have a whole world of media to inform them that they fall short of the ideal, and if there’s anything I can do to redress the balance, in favour of their self-confidence, I will do so.

It is absolutely true that the world inside them is the most important thing.

It’s just that the world outside them so often forgets the fact.

Tim Lott, Guardian, April 4