Who would think that being called ‘brave’ could actually be a sort of insult?
I’m not talking about William Wallace, or anyone subjected to an interrogation from Piers Morgan; I’m referring to branding those who step outside their pigeonhole in which society seems to feel they belong.
I was reminded of this phenomenon when the beautifully zaftig Nicola Coughlan – Irish actress and star of ‘Bridgerton’ – was recently lauded as ‘brave’ for her portrayal of Penelope in Season 3. Let’s just say her scenes of passion required an absence of fabric, and she – gasp! – weighed more than an anaemic chicken.
Now, in fairness, I personally think that anyone willing to step in front of the camera sans clothing is pretty gutsy – whether Joe Eszterhas is behind the script or not – but not all compliments are created equally. The B word has never popped up when Angelina Jolie, Sharon Stone, or countless other luminous Hollywood actresses have dropped trou for a sexy part, so why is Coughlan singled out?
I myself have been awarded the Big Girl’s Medal of Bravery in the past for refusing to stay in my perceived lane.
Many years ago I was asked to host the Humane Society’s fashion show, being held in The Ritz-Carlton’s ballroom. There was a stage and runway that stretched down the centre between rows of chairs.
We thought it would be fun if I opened the show, so I donned thigh-high black heeled boots, black tights, a snakeskin print swimsuit, and maxi-length black velvet duster. My hair was brushed out to its mega-dandelion circumference and the makeup was fierce.
As the music started pumping, I strode out there with confidence. I think I was about a size 12 at the time (blimey, what I wouldn’t give …) and my inner thighs may have been rubbing together like a cricket’s, but I felt I looked really good.
I hosted the rest of the event – it was a great fundraiser – and then a tall, willowy woman in stilettos made her way over to me. She told me what fun she’d had, that it was a terrific cause, and then her hand gently planted itself on my shoulder, and she looked deeply into my eyes.
“That was so brave of you, modelling that outfit,” she said, smiling down at me from a great height.
Why? Unless a nipple had decided to make a break for it, I didn’t see what was so cutting edge about my ensemble. I mean, I wouldn’t have worn it to check the mail (even my bravery has its limits) but it was perfectly fine for a fashion catwalk.
And then the penny dropped: It was like I was being praised for not wearing a sister-wife dress with random multiple pockets. Or maybe jeans with an extra comfort button, roomy through the hips and full crotch zip – front waistband to back waistband – to make bathroom visits that much simpler. “No bending at the knees, go potty with ease!” the colour TV ad at 2am would scream after we’d witnessed the monochromatic travesty of an overweight person trying to tackle the toilet in designer denim.
Look at me, blazing a trail in snakeskin print, with heels on my boots, no less!
Okay, I may be overstating a little, or apparently have some unresolved rage … but what are the odds that anyone would have said that to Heidi Klum, or Cindy Crawford, or Iman? And just in case anyone thinks I misinterpreted her remark, let me state that I’m no Sherlock Holmes but I know when something’s afoot.
On the one hand, we’re trying to become a body-positive society, but on the other, we’re still wrestling with the vision of anyone besides a sylph disrobing on film or modelling for mainstream magazines. They are often the comic relief in movies, and if they happen to get nominated for an Oscar, it’s difficult to find a designer who will dress them for the red carpet.
When I lost a lot of weight through the pandemic (we could only grocery shop every other day, remember?) I actually had two separate people express their concern that I wouldn’t be funny any longer, now I was slimmer. Yeah … but that’s what happens when you lose the chuckle cellulite; it’s a scientific fact.
Gimme a break.
Coughlan had the perfect comeback for being given a backhanded compliment – I’ll leave you to Google it. Good for her.
I’m not saying I’m just dying to be nude for the camera [sits back and waits for the offers of millions to start pouring in], but if it happens, I’ll be as brave – no more, no less – than anyone else. I’ll also expect the same airbrush treatment with a no-high-def clause in my contract. There’s brave and there’s brave.
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