Written by Niharika Nanda I am a plus-size woman. It took me quite a few years to come out and say this, although the world has taken the liberty of saying it for me many times. Growing up as a “chubby girl” in an Indian household is not for the faint of heart.
When hand-me-downs from your cousins don’t fit, you automatically become the subject of all dinner table conversations. I have often been called an “enthu-cutlet” — ready to be on stage, at the centre of attention, performing. My weight was never an obstacle when it came to being in front of people.
That was until I hit the age when romance started taking centre stage. Advertisement Growing up, I watched, over and over, Simran find her Raj, Naina find her Bunny and Monica, her Chandler. Along with hope, such films and TV shows evoked a fear: I don’t look like Naina, Simran, or Monica.
Am I good-looking enough to be desired? Pretty enough? I started watching Bridgerton with the rest of the world in 2020. A Netflix series based in Regency-era London, it features men in fitted breeches and women cinched in pretty corsets venturing out into society to look for a match under the watchful eye of the anonymous gossip writer, Lady Whistledown. With Season 3 of the show approaching, I was excited to see someone who looked a lot like me be at the centre of a romantic story.
For two seasons, we watched Penelope Featherington (Nicola Coughlan) remain in the shadows, with no prospects for marriage, while women her age.
