Some researchers will tell you that self-esteem is heavily influenced by things you will have no control over, such as your looks, and how “cool” you are seen to be by your peers.
And popularity too.
Now, if I’d let such trifles get in my way, I never would have conquered most of the known galaxy. You may not know it to look at me, particularly you hairless humans, but for an uber-chimp, I’m somewhat less hirsute than the Neecknabian ideal.
And in high school, I looked positively glabrous. That might be a good thing in Hollywood gay bars, but at Commander Chee-bee High, not good. (Commander Chee-bee was the Hero of the Spider Wars, inventor of the “brush and flush” battle maneuver, for those of you not up on the glorious history of Planet Neecknaw.) But did I obsess over the patches of skin you could see through my thin layer of hair?
Of course I did! It was high school.
But I used it. I drove the rage deep inside and it helped me overcome the Neecknabian Senate, using nothing but guile, a bathtub filled with depilatory, and several squads of insanely loyal, bald gorilloids with halitosis and broadswords. (Later these stalwarts became the Gorilloids-with-Fezes Brigade.)
When I was undisputed master of all of Planet Neecknaw, my old high school chums understood who was popular, and who wasn’t.
Then the forced shavings began.
Next time: I just bought a ten-kilometer long spaceship with enough firepower to obliterate a small moon. Do you think it will look like I’m over-compensating for something?