Embracing our imperfections

I knew a recent copy of New York Magazine was going to be good as soon as I got it in the mail. There she was, staring back at me in all her comedic genius: Rebel Wilson. The plus-size star of Bridesmaids and Pitch Perfect, she is known for making self-deprecating jokes around her weight, both on-screen and during interviews. Case and point: Her character in Pitch Perfect bluntly refers to herself as Fat Amy, so the “twigs” in college wouldn’t do it behind her back.

In the article, they described the trouble Wilson has encountered in Hollywood around her weight — more specifically concerning her nonchalant attitude toward looking attractive on screen. Producers and costume designers just can’t comprehend how she genuinely doesn’t care to be pretty while in character, how she trivializes her appearance while parading around in ill-fitting dresses and jumpsuits. More interested in portraying her characters accurately, she “sacrifices” her image for her acting, a true commitment in the image-obsessed world of Hollywood.

Wilson might also be pulling a clever trick on all the naysayers who love to give their (mostly unwanted) opinion on pop culture fashion and beauty. In addressing her weight in a no-nonsense, “yep this is me” style, Wilson has stolen the ammunition that could be used against her. How can they call her out for being overweight when she’s already done it a hundred ways herself? Being confident enough to call out her own imperfections — at least what popular culture labels as imperfections — she seems to have found a way to shut down some of the bullies that inevitably follow fame.

Thinking about Wilson’s brave attitude toward her appearance and weight, I began to wonder if I could ever adapt that sort of style with believability. Sure, we’ve all done it before — professed our physical insecurities in hopes of receiving some form of affirmation from our peers. But Wilson’s point of view seems different from this type of insecure self-bashing. Instead of “I want to lose three pounds,” she declares; “yep, I’m fat, and happy.” She isn’t looking for positive reinforcement from girlfriends. She already has it; she supplies it for herself.

It’s easy to say that this is the type of attitude that will topple bullying for good — if you’re OK with your flaws, there are none for a bully to use against you. But this confidence is all too easy to point out, and hard to adapt.

There are plenty of campaigns promoting that people can be perfect. Wilson’s attitude seems to instead require one to truly look and acknowledge physical attributes that will never conform to society’s overwhelmingly high bar of beauty. It requires an acceptance of that with a confidence to bring these attributes center stage through self-deprecation. Wilson makes this look easy. I’m not quite sure it is.