It’s astounding how long it took me to grasp this fundamental truth. Like many, I was raised in an environment where a woman’s value seemed to hinge on her attractiveness, which was invariably linked to her physical appearance, particularly her body shape. This message permeated our culture, delivered in overt ways as well as through more subtle channels. While we readily identify blatant abuse, such as a partner hitting you, the insidious nature of gaslighting often evades notice. Similarly, it’s easy to dismiss the harmful narrative presented in a television show that states, “She’s not attractive because she doesn’t fit the ideal size.” However, the lasting effects of rarely seeing a plus-size character whose narrative extends beyond her weight often go unrecognized until much later in life.
During my formative years, I seldom encountered anyone on screen who resembled me. I recognized that anyone outside the “heroin chic” aesthetic of the ’90s was often relegated to the role of the fat sidekick. In the literature I consumed, disordered eating was a recurring theme, a reflection of the troubling cultural norms of the time. Regardless of my actual size, I never saw myself in those characters, who were deemed more worthy of attention, especially from men.
I live with a condition known as polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) and have a history of disordered eating, a legacy of the ’90s where many young women grappled with body image issues. I also come from a family that has often celebrated fuller figures. I’ve come to understand that I will never fit into the conventional mold of thinness. Listing these reasons only serves to perpetuate the notion that my worth is conditional. I’m done with that. My worth exists simply because I am.
Here’s the reality: I am desirable too. Admittedly, not to everyone—who fits everyone’s taste?—but I am appealing to some, just as you are. Yet, the media fails to reflect this diversity.
This realization dawned on me a few years back when my child began reading classic series like the Babysitters’ Club and watching reruns of Full House—both staples of my own childhood. The glaring absence of characters who don’t conform to Hollywood’s narrow beauty standards was disheartening. When those characters existed, their arcs were typically centered around their looks—struggles with diets, experiences of rejection based on appearance, or the notion that their lives would improve if they could simply change themselves.
While it’s important to highlight how society’s unrealistic beauty standards impact those who don’t fit them, this isn’t merely about awareness. Last year, I reached out to friends on social media for recommendations of TV shows featuring body-positive messages or characters who might not fit the traditional mold for my children. The responses were limited. One show that stood out was Annedroids on Amazon Prime. It emphasizes science and friendship while featuring a character who, though not in a small body, is intelligent, humorous, and endearing. However, my daughters, at ages six and eight, have already absorbed the societal messages about beauty and have yet to choose her as the character they identify with.
As a result of the pandemic, many of us have turned to older television series for entertainment. While others indulge in shows like Tiger King, I’ve found myself revisiting Mad Men and now Younger—a series recommended to me for its humor and attractive cast. The premise follows a 40-year-old divorcee in New York who pretends to be younger to secure a job in publishing and navigates the complexities of dating while rediscovering herself.
If you’ve experienced a divorce or know someone who has, you can relate to the tumultuous feelings that arise—self-doubt and a longing to feel desirable again. It’s a journey riddled with insecurities, particularly for women who have birthed and nurtured children. This character, however, appears free from such body insecurities; she could easily pass for a 26-year-old without children. This is, sadly, what we expect from mainstream media.
Two minor characters in this show have bodies more akin to mine; one expresses her desire for romance while the other steals a chair in a bar, but these representations are few and far between. It took me until now, at 34, to fully grasp how deeply flawed this narrative is.
This piece won’t conclude with a neat resolution or a prescribed solution. I’m frustrated, and one of the benefits of the internet is the ability to voice that frustration. We—be it artists, writers, or fellow humans—must strive for improvement. For our children, yes, but also for ourselves.
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Summary:
In this reflection, the author shares their journey of recognizing the societal stigmas surrounding body image and the representation of plus-size women in the media. They express frustration over the lack of diverse portrayals in television, encapsulating the emotional struggles many face regarding self-worth and desirability. The narrative emphasizes the need for better representation and understanding in the entertainment industry.