Drop dead gorgeous

A few years ago I worked with someone who annoyed me so much that I delighted in torturing her.  Not in a waterboarding kind of way (of course) but rather, I indulged in inflicting extreme mental anguish.

She was, in essence, the type of woman that drove me insane.  It took her hours to get ready for work each morning as she had to straighten or blow dry her hair to within an inch of its life and trowel makeup over her face.  Apparently even her husband was not allowed to see her un-made-up face.  I have friends who are girly girls, but this woman was insane.

I tormented her by happily regaling her with (mostly true) stories about doing my grocery shopping in torn t-shirts and old tracksuit pants - usually combined with unlaced sandshoes and unbrushed hair, occasionally hidden under a cap.  She would hyperventilate and gasp, ‘It’s no wonder you’re single.  How do you expect to meet a man when you leave the house like that.’

Despite all of this, there were aspects of this woman (whose name now escapes me) that I secretly envied.  She was, you see, quite a buxom woman.  Like me she was tall and a bit overweight (note, that the ‘like me’ bit only related to the tallness element.  I am very overweight!).  Although I wouldn’t be seen dead in most of her clothes, she dressed with pride and little self-consciousness; flouncing about in low cut form-fitting bright dresses and ensembles.

I found this intriguing.  As a bigger woman, I cloak myself in loose shapeless shirts and pants.  I add some funky jewelry to try to give myself an iota of ‘style’ despite being forced to wear what is almost akin to a mu-mu.  Even when just ‘slightly’ overweight though, I was prone to covering up; to not drawing attention to myself, or holding myself up for comment or ridicule. As a result I envy those bigger girls who have the confidence to flaunt their bigger-than-the-norm curves rather than tucking them away and hoping others fail to notice them.

Which is why I am both intrigued and heartened by the Sony Pictures TV series, Drop Dead Diva.  I have watched the show since its launch here in Oz… initially on Channel 9, before being relegated to one of its digital stablemates, GO!

The show’s leading lady, Jane Bingum, played by the larger-than-is-the-norm-in-TV-land, Brooke Elliot, is a smart and savvy lawyer.  Well, in fact she is a size nothing vacuous blonde model (Deb), who is killed in a car accident - but rather than actually, you know, dying – inhabits the body of the decade-older plump lawyer with a heart of gold.

After the initial shock, Deb settles into life as Jane, bringing a sense of style to the character.  So, what I like about this show is that Jane’s weight isn’t really an issue.  I mean, obviously Deb is no longer stick thin and immediately superficially attractive to everyone, but Jane (like my former colleague) flounces about her life as if she is some sort of supermodel rather than a chubby lawyer.

I suspect there are some lessons here: how we feel about ourselves on the inside being reflected in our behavior towards others and how we treat ourselves etc.  And I wonder if this is true.  If I act confidently – and as if I was slim and beautiful and stylish – would others view me this way or, at least, judge me less savagely?

I am about to start a new job and need some new clothes.  Tempting as it is to buy more loose shirts and boring pants (until I lose weight and fit into my trendier clothes), perhaps this is my opportunity to put it out there a bit.  Well, by 'it', I mean me.  Perhaps I should embrace my curves (while simultaneously trying to lose the 30kgs I need to!) and strut my stuff with style and confidence.  Just like Jane Bingum.

It helps that Brooke Elliot is gorgeous.  Smiley and vivacious she is perfect in this role.  And as Deb/Jane, she dresses confidently.  She doesn’t don baggy shirts and pants to cover herself.  She wears bright skirts, dresses and jackets.  She totters about in high heels, red lipstick and glossy hair.  And she looks gorgeous.  She twinkles, and I find that I don’t pay any attention to her weight or her size. They are – for me – irrelevant.

But, so rarely do we see someone less-than-perfect playing a lead character.

A couple of months ago Marie Claire blogger, Maura Kelly created a furore when she wrote a somewhat scathing article about a new CBS show Mike and Molly.  The show hasn’t hit Australian screens yet, but I gather it is centred around a plus-sized couple (and show’s namesakes) who meet at an Overeaters Anonymous meeting.  In her blog, Kelly basically says she doesn’t want to see two fatties ‘get it on’ on television.  However, after much hue and outcry (and 4000+ comments on the MC website), Kelly posted an apology for her insensitive comments, admitting some of her reaction may have been more related to her own post-anorexic preconceptions than a response to the actual show and its characters.

The aforementioned and much-censured Marie Claire blog was Kelly’s response to a CNN article, which asked the question, ‘Can plus-sized actors have starring roles in which their weight isn’t a major part of the character or story line?’

Frankly, given the controversy around Mike and Molly and the fact that the CNN article even needed to ask the question… it seems not.

Even Melissa McCarthy, the new female lead of Mike and Molly, has done her time as ‘the best friend’ on the now defunct, The Gilmore Girls before her elevation to leading lady.

I mean, the TV show Roseanne has been on the shelf for 10 years now, and how many other larger women have we seen in lead roles on the small screen (or large one for that matter) during that time?

There have been a few hits and misses over the years, and the American show, Less Than Perfect, and British show, Linda Green, come to mind, though neither were blinding successes.  And of course, the talented Dawn French bucked tradition as The Vicar of Dibley… but it seems we are so accustomed to petite actors that we react (in one way or another) when faced with something different.

But, I wonder, is it really the fault TV Executive boffins that less-than-perfect leading ladies fail to grace our screens?  How many people out there are of the same mindset as our Marie Claire blogger and would be turned off by an overweight character playing a role normally earmarked for the trim and perky?  And, are we more accepting of the too-thin, than we are of the too-fat, when either extreme is unhealthy?  As a bigger girl, I should have been huing and crying myself at the Marie Claire article, but instead I wondered if I too am turned off by less-than-perfect leading characters.

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against not-perfect actors or, you know, people in general. But, I am a bit fussy about my TV viewing so tend to tune in only if I find the lead or supporting characters interesting or charismatic. So, The bigger question for myself and others, I guess is, are the two mutually exclusive?

Hopefully not.  And given that I find Drop Dead Diva’s slightly imperfect Jane Bingum delightful AND inspiring, I hold some hope for me and the rest of mankind.

Great expectations

My current hometown of Brisbane in Queensland, Australia, has just experienced record flooding.  And although many lives were not lost in the city itself, many homes and livelihoods have been impacted, some destroyed.

I believe the State and Local Government authorities have been amazing.  Providing regular updates and support during the crisis, and now in its wake mobilizing relief and rehabilitation.  Volunteers are being coordinated, bins scattered about the city for the destruction of perishables and kerbside pick ups arranged for debris and furniture needing to be removed from 20 000 flood-affected properties.  And yet, people are already complaining.  There aren’t enough bins.  Our suburb has received insufficient attention and support. Etcetera.

Record rainfall in Brazil has similarly caused flooding, as well as mudslides.  At least 600 people have been killed.  I’m sure their State and Federal authorities are doing as much as possible, but I can almost guarantee it isn’t as thorough or organized as the efforts of our governments.  I mean I am sure there will be blame games here in Oz about how on earth this could happen in such a prosperous and developed city and country.  Our policies in relation to dams, town planning, building requirements and the sustainability of infrastructure will all be examined.

There’s some adage about ‘the more we have, the more we want’.  But I think that ‘the more we have, the more we expect’ is more accurate.

Although not affected by the flooding in our State I feel nothing but sympathy for those who are.  But if I had been affected I’d like to think I would be grateful that the authorities are doing their best to help and I would try really really hard not to complain.  But perhaps it’s easier for me…. And no, not because I am an incredibly tolerant and generous person; but because my expectations are so very low in the first place.

In the mid 1990s I was in my mid 20s.  I had just paid off my first new car.  I was working in Local Government and commenced studying for an MBA.  I was also wondering if I should be starting to save for my first house.  But it all felt wrong.  It seemed pointless.  So, in an attempt to stave off my own quarter-life crisis and to seek some purpose for my own pathetic little existence I applied to an overseas volunteer program.

The Australian Volunteer Abroad (AVA) Program (like the American Peace Corps, or British VSO program) sends Australians to developing countries to work alongside partners in those countries.  Earning a local wage and living long-ish term in local communities, the program aims to be as beneficial to volunteers as those with whom they are working.

[caption id="attachment_425" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Mozambican village (1995)"][/caption]

I worked as a volunteer in Mozambique and Cambodia.  The African experience was more life-changing as it came first (and was probably more of a shock). I loved Africa.  Until I returned home, I couldn’t imagine coming back here and certainly initially on my return I felt an extreme sense of culture shock and displacement.  Cambodia was different and I was only there for 7 months.  Security was in issue in both places, but while I was in Phnom Penh the post-UN power sharing agreement between the two Prime Ministers disintegrated until there was a coup d'état.  The city was on edge for months before the tanks appeared and fighting started.

In both countries I worked in local organisations and lived in local accommodation (albeit better than many of my work colleagues could afford).  Although I received very little money (in our terms) I still had savings and resources to fall back on and – well, quite frankly, I still had a ticket out of there any time I wanted to use it.

At the turn of the last century (ie.1999 – 2001) I also worked in East Timor.  By then I was with the Commonwealth Government and there on a diplomatic posting.  My lifestyle was quite different to that of a locally-paid volunteer.

In Mozambique’s capital, Maputo, I lived (like most people) in a high-rise building.  I think there was one other expatriate in the building, although he moved out just after I arrived.  No cause and effect there, but rather as a result of his being mugged at gunpoint on entering the building one evening and his suspicion that our building’s ‘guard’ was somehow involved. With two iron doors and a strong timber front door AND six floors off the ground, my own apartment felt quite safe. I had no hot water of course, bit quite often had running water and my electricity supply (as I lived near a large tourist hotel) was fairly consistent.  I had a telephone line although battled with operators who (pre-2000 Olympics) had never heard of Australia were adamant that I really wanted to speak to someone in Austria whenever I attempted to call home… a result of my poor Portuguese as much as geographical ignorance I suspect.

My biggest splurge in the 16 months I spent in Maputo was a TV/video.  Although television itself was limited to CNN, a local station, an Angolan station and Portuguese game shows, pirated videos were available for rent locally for about 20 cents.  I had befriended two other Australian Volunteers in town and, as they had a car, they took me shopping (for groceries, booze and possibly illicit-money changing) while I hosted video evenings.

[caption id="attachment_426" align="alignright" width="199" caption="Power pole on Norodom Blvd Phnom Penh (1997)"][/caption]

In Cambodia I lived above a local family in a little dirt street with no name.  My flat had no telephone and intermittent power.  I paid an exorbitant amount for the little power I did have, because it was the norm for neighbours to somehow tap into my supply and apparently expats paid more anyway.  Water was also in short supply, although it was my poor cleaner (ahem, ‘maid’) who lugged bottles to my flat each day.  Given that she demanded to work daily (even though I didn’t want or need her to), I suspect it gave her something to do.  Without access to transport I walked everywhere and travelling at night was not an option.  Most evenings were spent sitting on my balcony by candlelight listening to my Diskman on batteries recharged before the power went out.

Although I would not even consider comparing my time in these countries to that of my local colleagues and compatriots, it was – by developed country standards – difficult.  Corruption was rife in both countries.  Just when I thought my workmates were accepting me as ‘one of them’, they would hit me up for some money.  Meat was a rarity and I lived on potatoes or rice with sauces.  I spent exorbitant amounts of money on treats.  And pre-internet contact with family and friends was precious and rare. (In Mozambique, the minimum cost for my weekly fax to my parents was USD5.  On one occasion the line dropped out 3 times and the page cost me USD15.)  I expected little.  And was rarely disappointed.

Then I returned home.

Naturally I thought I would return this zen-like more tolerant person and… well, just grateful for anything really.

On some level this has been the case. I find myself more appreciative of what we have (in the developed world and particularly here in Australia) that others don’t; social safety nets and supports, and well-functioning governments (on the whole).  And every time I am frustrated with bus delays I remind myself how excited I was 9-10 years ago to come home to Australia and to our efficient (and well, existent) public transport system.

Several years before travelling overseas I worked in the social sector for Local Government.  People with a disability were (understandably) unhappy that some buildings in our local area were not wheelchair accessible and some existing ramps provided a challenge for their motorized wheelchairs.

A month or so later I was living in Mozambique (like Cambodia) hugely impacted by land mines.  By the time I worked in Cambodia many people had received artificial limbs.  But in Mozambique one of the first people I saw with no legs was slithering along the ground.  It wasn’t an uncommon sight.  If they were lucky they had rubber gloves. And if they were really lucky they had fashioned a skateboard to protect their bodies from the unrelenting surfaces of that country.

Shocking, yes.

[caption id="attachment_428" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Me dancing in a church near Maputo (the man with the rooster is the Minister - and no, it wasn't sacrificed). We'd been there for an AIDS presentation"][/caption]

And, as I said, on one level this has made me more cognizant of what we do have and I am more grateful for our lifestyle.  Unlike many of my compatriots here in Oz, my expectations are generally pretty low.  I can laugh when people complain about our public toilets and I can shrug off the very rare power blackouts.

But I am far from being the more tolerant person I hoped would evolve from my experiences with ‘the less fortunate’.  So, although my expectations of life and others have changed, I did not emerge from my life-changing episodes changed.  As it happens, I am still me. For better or for worse.

Give Hope a Chance

I am a self-confessed fickle and adulterous TV viewer.  I have admitted on a number of occasions that I become obsessed with a television series, only to throw it over when a better contender comes along.

Not content to have tossed aside the likes of Northern Exposure, Buffy, West Wing, Sex and the City, Firefly and Dexter, I have blogged about my recent obsession for Pushing Daisies, Dead Like Me, Entourage, Fringe (twice), Robin Hood and Deadwood, each time excited that I have found something which takes my fancy and – the show in question – is afforded top spot on my TiVo.  That is, until the next best thing comes along.

And I am doing it again.

For me, Channel 10 here in Oz topped off a relatively ordinary television year in 2010 by debuting the new American series, Raising Hope.  I’m not one for slapstick humour (in fact you can see from my list of favourites, I’m not one for comedies much at all*), but the TV ads I’d seen before the show aired looked hilarious in an ‘Oh-my-God-I-can’t-believe-they-did-that!’ kind of way.  I laughed-out-loud every time I watched the clip where the young father had proudly bought the baby seat for the car but then didn’t realize it had to be strapped in until they turned a corner and the seat (and baby) somersaulted (unharmed) around the car’s back seat.

While not macabre or lewd, the show isn’t for those who take themselves (or life) too seriously.  The humour can bit a bit juvenile and is often a bit black.

The premise of the show says it all: 23yr old Jimmy Chance has a one-night stand with a woman who turns out to be a serial killer.  Impregnated during their night of bliss, Ms Serial Killer gives birth while on death row and six-month old Princess Beyonce is handed over to Jimmy after her execution.

Jimmy still lives with his young parents (Virginia and Burt) and works for his father’s lawn mowing and pool cleaning business.

We quickly learn that Jimmy’s own upbringing was somewhat unorthodox, with Virginia giving birth to Jimmy at 15 years of age (Burt was 17).  Regular flashbacks give us sneak peaks into the loving – albeit quite dysfunctional - family.

After unwillingly inheriting Princess Beyonce, Jimmy (Lucas Neff) convinces his quirky parents that they shouldn’t leave her on the steps of the local Fire Station and the family starts to grapple with raising the renamed Hope.

The cast is all amazing, though for me Lucas Neff’s Jimmy is outplayed by his parents Martha Plimpton and Garret Dillahunt.  To top it off there’s Maw Maw, Virginia’s grandmother, whose Alzheimer-ridden behavior is delivered hilariously by the often half-naked Cloris Leachman. The comedic timing of all of the cast is perfect.  And frankly, the twins who play Hope are just gorgeous beyond belief.

I know the ‘baby-poop-smells’ gag has been done to death and is beyond passé, but I think the tone of the show was set in the pilot episode when Jimmy is so shocked by the smell that he actually vomits all over the baby.  Before he and his mother can clean the vomit off, she gets a whiff and does the same.  For some reason the scene didn’t cause me to eye-roll which would be the norm for such obvious humour.  I mean, I am pretty sure vomiting on babies is kinda frowned upon – but again this was laugh-out-loud funny. In a sick and not-politically-correct way, that is.

Shows about dysfunctional families and parents aren’t uncommon or new (thinking back to the likes of Rosanne, Married With Children, Malcolm in the Middle, The Simpsons etc) but, well frankly, I didn’t like any of them.  My taste in comedy usually borders on the darker and more sarcastic, but I find myself chuckling aloud at the antics of the Chance family.  In a recent episode (Family Secrets) I laughed so much (at Burt putting make-up on Hope) I snorted diet coke out of my nose.  And did I mention that baby Hope is just gorgeous?

Raising Hope has forced its way to the top of my TiVo recording priorities.  I can but ‘hope’ the quality of acting and screenwriting continues and look forward to seeing what comes next for the Chance family.

* Although old British favorites, Absolutely Fabulous, Black Books and As Time Goes By, hold special places in my heart, Big Bang Theory is a current fave.