Plus-sized protagonists -- small step for literature, giant leap for mankind?

I read in the newspaper today about children’s book authors (and I suppose book authors in general) featuring more plus-sized protagonists in their plot lines these days. The story talked about some specific books — “Models Don’t Eat Chocolate Cookies” and “Food, Girls and Other Things I Can’t Have” — that follow the stories of overweight or even obese teens through their personal journeys of self-acceptance. It’s an interesting idea, and according to the article it’s helping teens and other readers to find more acceptance in their own selves.

I can understand how many teens today would be unable to relate to stick-thin protagonists of other novels, like, perhaps Harry Potter, who’s underweight throughout the entire series despite regular second and third helpings of trifle at the Gryffindor House table — and Ron and Hermione, for that matter, who are portrayed, at least in the movies, as being very svelte. (Maybe climbing up and down all those castle stairs each day helps offset the amount of food children left to their own devices can consume when faced with only the most scrumptious-sounding food in all of Great Britain.) Neville, on the other hand, is ridiculed by fellow classmates for carrying a bit of extra weight. Similarly, Bella Swan in “Twilight” describes herself as always having been slim; well, that’s great for Bella, but what about the rest of the American human race? Bella has her own bucket full of self-confidence problems, but being overweight is not one of them. Even back in the days of my childhood, literature was jam-packed with skinny teens — the girls of the “Baby Sitters Club,” who, like the students at Hogwarts, remained thin no matter how much junk food they crammed down their throats each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon during their BSC meetings in Claudia’s room. Even Claudia, herself, the greatest junkfoodie of them all, was admired by the rest for her ability to stay slim despite all the junk she ate. Stacy, the one with type-1 diabetes, was described as being “too skinny.”

I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with idealizing the stars of children’s literature. In fact I think it probably helps the reader to want to strive to be more like their storybook hero. Still, I’m not sure that portraying more real-world children is such a good idea either.

For one thing, how will the book end? Will the character decide she’s fine just the way she is — at 217 lbs? Will that in turn convince the reader she doesn’t need to lose weight either? I would hope if the author is advocating self-assurance and confidence he or she would at least strive to convey to the reader the importance of leading a healthy life, through good food and exercise. I remember wanting to be just like Dawn in the BSC, who ate only health food, refusing to go anywhere near red meat or sugar — but that didn’t make me put down my Hershey bar in favor of hummus or tahini. Back in the 4th grade, I WAS thin, underweight even. I did not see the harm of eating like Claudia and the others did.

If, then, the reader is NOT influenced by the actions of the protagonist, what is the benefit of portraying more-relatable characters? Just to sell books?

As an aspiring author, I wonder at how I would portray an overweight character. Not that children’s literature is lacking in overweight characters.

In one of the BSC books, Stacy unintentionally helps a little boy to lose weight. After his family and everyone else try to help him, attempting everything from ridicule to exercise videos, the one thing that helps is his discovery of Stacey’s diabetes making it impossible for her to eat the sort of junk food he does. He decides to pretend he has diabetes too, and the little massively overweight 10-year-old eventually does lose all his excess weight, through the power of make-believe and self-denial.

 Bess, one of Nancy Drew’s best friends and frequent sidekick, was described as “pleasantly plump” at every turn, perhaps Carolyn Keene’s way of adding diversity into her stories. Nancy was thin; George was athletic-looking. That left only Bess to represent the remainder of the readers who could not relate to the beautiful auburn-haired sleuth and her exercise fanatic friend. Yet Keene never made an effort to help Bess lose weight; Bess never even seemed mildly upset by her body type.

On one hand a character lost weight and became happy; on the other, a plump character stayed the way she was…and remained happy.

So, the question remains, how should the story of an overweight teen play out? Would the author be failing the audience to portray the character as static in her physical condition, even if she improves in all other aspects of her life, from health to social standards? Is it enough that she loves herself the way she is, that she’s accepted by other students and even finds herself elected prom queen, even though she wears a size 24 dress? Or would an ending like that reinforce the idea that we should be all accepting no matter the consequence to our health. Would the author be remiss not to mention the threats that a girl that big would face to her blood pressure, to her ankles which have to support 250+ lbs, to any thing else that her weight might affect?

I wouldn’t know how to end that story. If I say she loses weight, readers would wonder why she isn’t accepted the way she was, why losing weight is her only choice — the answer to all her problems (like in those 90s movies in which a makeover was all that was needed to transform the meek chess club student into the star of the school). On the other hand, if I keep her at 250 lbs, then I’ve failed her. I’ve allowed childhood obesity to rule, to become suddenly okay.

What do you think? Do you think these books with obese or overweight protagonists will help today’s youth? At the very least it will get them to read, so that’s something, right?