Fox's More to Love: Uplifting or Degrading?

Last night, Fox launched the latest offensive in the anti-fatist revolution. Promising 20 plus-size young women a safe space and a safely hefty bachelor, More to Love's first episode showed that reality programming skanks come in all shapes and sizes. But as the episode (essentially The Bachelor xeroxed at 125%) unfolded, we found ourselves slipping into a crisis of confidence: Does Fox intend for us to laugh and create distance from these women who foolishly seek love (regardless of size) on a dating show? Or is this a backhandedly empowering pity party for larger women everywhere who can't get a date? It's a riddle as old as time.

Fox is never one to ignore or torpedo a trend, and More to Love snugs nicely into the current oversized TV landscape. 495 Productions, the production company behind More to Love, also produces Dance Your Ass Off, an Oxygen reality competition show that takes overweight people and tries its damnedest to get them skinny by providing doctors, nutritionists, trainers and dance partners. In the fictional realm, on Lifetime's Drop Dead Diva, the conceit of a skinny woman in a large woman's body has six acts of scripted dialogue to fit itself into a moral about the dangers of a shallow outlook or why reserving judgment is important. But what are we supposed to think about the women of More to Love, who are proud to be "chunky," when The Biggest Loser, Oprah and Dr. Sanjay Gupta tell us that obesity is a pandemic?

Adding to the confusion is the way the girls were introduced. Usually the occupation or geographical origin of a woman is emphasized, but the lower third graphics instead indicated the height and weight of each woman as well as their town and day job. Maybe they wanted us to play along at home and calculate the BMI score for each girl ("Let's see, Magali is 5'7" and weighs 193 lbs. 30.2! Only slightly obese!") or maybe they were showing that these girls didn't care about who knew their size, it's what's inside that counts. The problem is that what's inside these girls appears to be sadness about being judged for their weight: A filet mignon riddle wrapped inside a bacon enigma.

It's not like Luke is treated any better or any worse, depending on how many levels of this onion you have peeled away. Before we met the ladies, we already knew that plus-sized bachelor Luke likes to eat (his current love is grilled food), weighs in at three clicks and lives by a simple motto: Life's too short to worry about counting calories. Because of this belief, he's "always been attracted to voluptuous, curvy girls because they have more fun in life." Later, Luke tells host Emme that he doesn't have a type. Does that contradiction mean anything? Or is that just a Fox story editor being sloppy with the details? Or should the question have been phrased: "Is there a subset of plus-sized women you prefer?"

As the women emerged from the limo, their crying testimonials undercut any of the confident or flirty energy they threw at Luke. The sob stories were all very similar: they've never dated, their last boyfriend was embarrassed to be seen with them, they've struggled with self-confidence issues and get little male attention when they are around their skinny friends. But the house is a safe space: lots of opportunities for dates, one guy who appears genuinely excited to have so many women around and no skinny chicks to make them feel fat.

But in the very next segment, the mingling party scenes are intercut with clips of the girls reaching for heaping trays of beef skewers and discussing their favorite desserts. Are passed hors d'oeuvres important or relevant? At one point, a contestant asks Luke what his favorite food is and he responds "Anything thick and juicy." It could be flirty, or he just likes steaks. This show is perfect for DVR owners because every statement and action is so heavy with possible readings, unlike The Bachelorette which lacks any sense of irony about itself or the ways of love.

The reason those skinny women dating shows are so fun to watch (or at least so successful in the ratings) is they cast women who meet a standard of beauty but are batshit crazy on some level. Sure, they are all a size 4 or less and many appear to be victims of drive-through plastic surgery, but the playing field is level appearance-wise in order to expose personality differences. Here, Fox tilts the playing field so all the women are the same plus-size and in turn the viewer at home feels guilty about judging the ladies. If Natalia (5'10! 279 lbs!) turns out to be a back-stabbing, catty whore, are we allowed to laugh or judge her? Is that the point of this show? Should we view any bitchiness as the result of a lifetime of sizist scrutiny and thus a locus of empathy rather than a target of ire?

Everyone wants to find someone who will love them for who they really are. The idea that this More to Love will prove that fat people can love each other too (a wish repeated many times last night) is not only ridiculous but a fatist proposition in and of itself. At one point, a contestant named Melissa confesses:

"I've never actually been on a real live date. What do I say? I'm so nervous...I'm always scared it's going to be a joke...I'm scared they are doing it out of meanness."

You're preaching to the choir, sister.