I mean, c’mon; a cute coming-of-age movie where the thick girl ends up with the fit guy who is the envy of all the southern beauty queens, mends her relationship with her mother, and finds new confidence in herself with the help of a couple Drag Queens? Triumphs over Hairspray, IMHO.
No, this isn’t a review. This is more of a plea – SEE THIS MOVIE.
Is it an instant cinematic classic? Well, let’s just say it won’t get many prestigious nominations. The plot is unspoilable, it’s so predictable. From a critic’s standpoint, this is just another Netflix throw-away with big names to draw in an audience (thank you for signing on, Jennifer Aniston). But from the standpoint of a curvy girl who’s been shouting at her own psyche for the past 22 years, this movie is immeasurable in its significance.
Willowdean Dickson is a fat high school girl with a former beauty queen for a mother, who decides to join the pageant her mother runs as a protest to her mom’s superficial world (OK, PAUSE. Yes, I called her fat. This movie is not shy with its characters calling themselves and others “fat”, and that is important. Fat is not a bad word. It is a descriptor. It has been made a bad word because society has branded being bigger as a bad thing. Please see my previous post about being a curvy girl in the beauty industry for further explanation as to why the word “fat” needs to be taken back. Okay, un-pause). Right off the bat, I identify. While my mom and I both share clothes now, back in the 80’s Suzy Croce was not only runner-up to Miss Honolulu but also University of Hawaii’s Homecoming Queen. She was, and still remains to this day, absolutely radiant. But I have a mother who was 5’5″ and 105 lbs soaking wet when she got married to my father at 25, so as a 5’11” and ***lbs 22 year old, I will only be able to wear her wedding gown around my left thigh.
Now, in this movie, Willowdean’s mom (played by the aforementioned queen of 90’s sitcoms) makes comments to her about her weight and how she eats, a toxic attitude too many parents have towards their children under the guise of wanting them to be healthy. While yes, eating healthy and exercising is crucial to living a healthy lifestyle, it is not a cure to all body types. There are women who will have a “less than desirable” shape no matter how hard they try to look like Kate Upton; genetics are a joy, aren’t they?
Let me be absolutely clear. My mother is the most supportive and wonderful person on the face of this earth who tells me I am beautiful every day of my life. She is my town’s most popular tailor who specializes in women’s formal wear, most notable in my opinion for having a particularly magnificent skill of empowering all women of any size to love the way they are built and to help them see the beauty in their body. She is honest when things don’t fit well and is willing to do whatever it takes to make her clients (and her daughter, the tall/curvy client she has the most practice with) feel their absolute best. She does not fall into the same toxic parenting style as Jennifer Aniston’s character does. My mom isn’t perfect, but I am not accusing her of being the root of my insecurities.
However – I don’t believe that even though my mom is no longer the bean-pole she once was, she has an understanding of what it is like to grow up as a larger girl. So when watching Dumplin’, I couldn’t stop raising my hands, crying, and shouting, “YAS!” I couldn’t believe how well a subpar movie’s story described how I have felt in my life all too often.
While this entire 1 hour and 50-minute ride was FULL of glances into a thick girl’s world (including the required “best friend fight” between the protagonist and her skinny friend about Elle not understanding Willow’s plight as a fat girl, definitely a must see for any girl with a beautiful D2 colligate athlete for a best friend, i.e. me), two scenes, in particular, broke my heart a little bit. Both revolve around the love interest, Bo. Bo is handsome, kind, funny, and most importantly, stereotypically normal in stature, about 6 foot and relatively skinny, copy and paste of any Rom-Com coming-of-age love interest. He’s the kind of guy you wanna take home to your parents. He is very obviously flirting with Willowdean anytime we see our heroine at her diner job. One night, he asks her to go sit in the back of his truck to watch the meteor shower with him (hold back your cliche-induced barf, I know). There, he grabs her hand and helps her onto the bed of his Chevy (not actually sure if it’s a Chevy, don’t @ me). They talk, he asks her about her love for Dolly Parton, and they share a smooch. At one point, the camera pans to Bo’s hand grazing over her back, showing her discomfort when he hits a slightly more pronounced “roll” of fat. Willowdean pulls away, and makes a hasty and embarrassed exit, leaving her suitor completely confused as to her departure.
Later in the movie, Bo confronts Willowdean, asking her why she left. She then starts spitting out several phrases like, “Guys like you don’t end up with girls like me, it just isn’t real,”; “Just look at me, and look at you,”; “You should be with Bekah instead (one of the other beauty queens in the pageant who asked Bo to the Sadie Hawkins dance),”; etc.. He then confesses to her how much he likes her and how beautiful he thinks she is, ending with, “but you’re never going to believe it from me, are you?” perfectly setting up her character to go and find her confidence and self-love without him in the third act of the film.
I can’t underplay how hard this hit me. Both scenes, I was crying. I am constantly hyper-aware of every cell of fat on my body every hug I give, especially to guys. Any time someone offers to help me up or down a step or jump of some sort, I immediately reject because I fear the inevitable grunt of the strain put on them by my weight. I’m scared that every measure I go through to hide how I actually look under my clothing will be seen through and that person will be disgusted. It could be irrational, it could be absolutely warranted, but it is completely real and indescribably painful when those fears do become reality.
As for the self-perception and insecurity about being with someone thinner, I know that all too well. I have scolded myself for finding guys thinner than I attractive because I know they wouldn’t return the interest. And you might be saying, “Maggie, don’t stifle yourself! You are beautiful and you should try going after a thinner guy, you never know what would happen!” Actually, I do. My longest relationship was with a guy who played rugby and wrestled, very fit and notably better looking than I in stature. Granted, while he wasn’t the best boyfriend to me, he did defend my honor once by almost punching a guy in public for calling me a whale. While I don’t remember what exactly was said, within the context of the comment, I was only called a whale because I was with him. That passerby confirmed all of my fears that me being with someone smaller than I was weird and wrong, and me being the less valuable person in the relationship should feel ashamed of myself and grateful for even being looked at by someone more attractive. That boyfriend also later swiftly left me and may have been cheating on me with a shorter and thinner girl, so that didn’t help.
A difference in weight (and height as well, in my case. I have other stories about that too, but that’s another blog post) should be a stupid superficial detail that shouldn’t matter in the context of a romantic relationship, but the sharp blade of insecurity piled on by media, strangers, and sometimes those closest to you cut so deep that they sometimes hit bone, breaking you enough to make you feel unworthy to be fixed or loved.
My heart was shattered both for Willowdean and for the version of me I saw in her.
But then I thought back to another interaction I’ve had with another former boyfriend. He was fat like me, but strong and (IMO) very attractive. He never wanted to have his shirt off around me, and I hated it. The summer we dated, I wanted to swim and go to the beach with him, and he never wanted to be put in those situations where he might feel embarrassed and exposed. The truth is, I got it. I understood more than anyone. But I loved him, and I wanted him to know that I loved every part of him regardless of how he felt he looked. Despite my push to help him see his attractiveness, I couldn’t get through to him.
Insecurities can blind you to how the rest of the world actually sees you. Mine still do. Trying to tell someone that something they’re insecure about (and maybe hate about themselves) is beautiful is like trying to describe to a red/green colorblind person what the color purple actually looks like. They just might not be able to comprehend without seeing for themselves. Self-love is a painful, long, vulnerable process. And honestly? I’m so not totally there yet. After struggling for my whole like with the way I look, I’m not going to see one movie about another fat girl and suddenly understand my beauty. But I’m working, I’m learning, I’m getting real with myself and with the One who created me (fearfully and wonderfully, I might add). And what I hope this movie does for you if you’re in the same boat as me, is to maybe show you in some small way that you’re heard, you’re not crazy for feeling horrible and scared, and you are in fact beautiful. You might not believe now that you are, but I pray that you see it someday.
Now if you are someone who isn’t fat, but you have that one person (or a couple of people) who you want to show how beautiful they are, I implore you; watch the dang movie. It’s stupid and cheesy, but it addresses the real ways a lot of fat people (girls, especially) see themselves and react to criticisms, pain, and love.
Beauty & Bright 