The End of the Funny Fat Lady

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In the debut episode of the romantic-comedy series “Too Much,” a heartbroken 30-something named Jessica, played by Megan Stalter, decides to visit an old apartment she once shared with her ex, Zev (Michael Zegen), who now seems to be living there with his new girlfriend, Wendy Jones (Emily Ratajkowski). Her arrival, in a cab and visibly intoxicated, hints at trouble from the get-go. However, things swiftly spiral out of control when she breaks the window and barges into the apartment. After calling Wendy some choice names, Jessica unleashes an angry rant about Zev’s departure, which she considers the most hurtful action anyone could take. The confrontation ends with Zev threatening to dial the police, and Jessica fleeing down the street, holding a stolen garden gnome and losing one of her shoes while running like a distraught Brooklyn fairy tale character, all while Cam’ron’s “Dead or Alive” plays in the background.

In viewing that sequence, I felt like I recognized this character. Not personally, but she reminded me of Lena Dunham, a co-creator of “Too Much,” who likewise found new love in the U.K. Jessica seems familiar to me, or so I thought. She’s emblematic of a certain type of character – the humorously plump woman, often not as heavy as she appears, symbolizing the average American woman instead. This character can be extremely self-assured or lacking in confidence, but she’s always a bit messy, lazy, and talkative. Her gregariousness runs deep, beyond mere physical dimensions. She storms through comedies, both being part of the joke and the target, representing how larger women may feel when they’re mistreated, yet also expected to challenge that criticism before it’s even hurled at her.

Recently, the amusing, plump woman has been frequently on my mind, given the intersection of the body-positivity movement and increased availability of weight-loss drugs. As a young woman who identifies as plump, I’ve become particularly attentive to societal messages about how I might be perceived. For me, that first memorable impression was Jan (Jamie Donnelly), one of the Pink Ladies in Grease. Betty Rizzo, portrayed by Stockard Channing, is the bold and tragic leader of the girl gang, while Marty is the seductive one and Frenchy the sweet one. Jan, however, stands out as the plump one. It’s interesting to note that Donnelly isn’t significantly larger than her co-stars, suggesting that plumpness is more about personality rather than physical appearance. She’s characterized by her lack of self-control, which also makes her humorous, as she secretly sneaks snacks into formal events and clumsily struts down the Stroll. When Putzie asks her out, he prefaces his invitation by saying, in a kind gesture, “I’ve always thought you were a very understanding person. I also believe there’s more to you than just being plump.

In Hollywood, having a good sense of humor has often served as a way to bypass strict beauty norms, providing an entry point into the world of film and stardom. This is especially true for individuals who don’t fit traditional standards of attractiveness, such as larger men like Oliver Hardy and Stan Laurel, or Jack Black, who has become known as the PG party animal. However, for women, humor alone hasn’t typically been enough to fully overcome the lack of conformity to conventional beauty. As a result, funny plus-sized women often find themselves needing to soften their image, often resorting to self-deprecation.

In the 1960s, comedian Totie Fields deliberately jiggled her plump arms while humorously asserting, “I’m a strong advocate for exercise – that’s why I stay toned!” Decades later, Roseanne Barr, famous for her groundbreaking sitcom, spoke about the media treatment she received with a blend of pride and resentment: “It was all fat jokes, but I just chuckled it off – I didn’t shed tears of sadness every night.” This pattern of self-deprecating humor among plus-sized comedians, particularly those who are Black, can be traced back to white feminism, characterized by the degree to which these characters align with societal ideals of beauty without personally embodying them. Consequently, when the era of the popular ‘funny fat lady‘ emerged in the 2010s, it was primarily dominated by white women, symbolizing a limited victory in representation that underscored the proximity between sympathy and humiliation, and that self-deprecation didn’t lessen the pain of the insults hurled at them.

Melissa McCarthy, previously known for her character as a supportive best friend on ‘Gilmore Girls’ without much focus on her size, achieved her breakthrough in Hollywood cinema with the 2011 film ‘Bridesmaids,’ playing the blunt and formidable Megan Price. This role earned her an Oscar nomination and paved the way for her stardom in films. Similarly, Paul Feig’s comedy also introduced Rebel Wilson as one of Kristen Wiig’s eccentric roommates, a part that led to Wilson’s own breakthrough the following year in ‘Pitch Perfect,’ where she played the flamboyant Fat Amy, who uses the term herself to prevent others from doing so derisively.

In 2012, Lena Dunham’s series ‘Girls’ premiered, featuring Dunham as Hannah Horvath, a naive 20-something living in Brooklyn whose nude body was often featured during scenes of romantic mishaps. Amy Schumer, who later starred in her own TV show, portrayed the self-conscious Renee Bennett in ‘I Feel Pretty’ (2018), a comedy about a woman who believes she is beautiful after a head injury. The film sparked debate over whether it was more about laughing at or with the character, prompting Schumer to defend it against perceived backlash.

In a world where she was met with a barrage of size-related jokes, a comedienne elicited anger from some viewers. Lena Dunham, for one, ignited intense debate, as her portrayal ventured into controversial territory by suggesting that men like Adam Driver and Patrick Wilson might find her attractive, and included nudity that didn’t cater to the audience’s desires. For me, the excitement of witnessing a non-slender belly or a plump face on screen, in an industry often dominated by slim figures, was tainted by the feeling that I was also seeing my own internalized shame magnified. The films and shows such as “Pitch Perfect 2”, “I Feel Pretty”, and even “Grease” start with characters who accidentally tear their clothes in public. In the latter two, Renee is mistaken for a man trying to pick up her friend, and Jan continues to lead on the dance floor. It seems that being overweight has effectively removed any gender identity from these women. These movies and shows may acknowledge the harsh reality of living in a world that deems you physically and constitutionally inadequate, but they are not immune to perpetuating the very cruelty they aim to expose.

Despite facing criticism, they continue to be hilarious, particularly in the case of “Bridesmaids”, a comedy milestone where McCarthy is more than just a powerful force but the backbone that holds everything together flawlessly. By portraying someone who has endured ridicule and remains undeterred with an indomitable self-image, she offers a resilient balance to the deep-seated insecurities that drive both Wiig’s and Rose Byrne’s characters. It’s not surprising that McCarthy wrote a romantic storyline for herself in 2014’s “Tammy”, given her newfound influence to create her own projects. After using humor to explore her own sexuality extensively, as seen in the finale of “Bridesmaids” where Megan playfully eats a sandwich off an air marshal she previously flirted with, one can understand her desire for a chance to be viewed as a typical romantic interest.

Increasing availability of GLP-1 medications for those who can afford them may lead to a resurgence in the typical body types portrayed in movies and TV shows. It’s not surprising that celebrities like McCarthy and Wilson have chosen to lose weight, but they’ve made their own decisions regarding this matter. The convergence of the body-positivity movement and the use of Ozempic has inevitably led to an easier escape from societal stigma compared to the ongoing struggle against it. It’s easier to free oneself from the stigma than to continue a tiresome, endless battle against it.

Although it seems that the “funny, plump woman” may primarily be a relic of a specific pop culture period, I don’t think it’s solely due to us pushing larger bodies to the sidelines again. The series Too Much, despite initially presenting its protagonist as another self-punishing martyr, surprisingly transforms her into an embodiment of self-love, albeit with varying success. Similar to Lena Dunham’s character Hannah from Girls, Jessica expresses a torrent of emotions and speaks her mind unfiltered. However, you can sense Dunham attempting to portray Jessica in a different light. In the scene where Jessica and her love interest, Felix (Will Sharpe), make love for the first time, the camera captures Stalter sprawled out, flushed, her curves accentuated by the dim lighting. Unlike Jessica, who is erratic and emotional, she never questions why someone might find her attractive. She’s allowed to be desirable. I dream of a future where the “funny, plump woman” isn’t absent but liberated from the expectations that have been imposed upon her. Her body could simply be a part of who she is, and her humor could take center stage.

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2025-07-16 14:54