Monsters of Television

Top Chef is back, and it has invaded the nation’s capitol. This means, among other things, that Nancy Pelosi will be guesting on the program (!). The contestants seem reasonably adequate. So far, Kenny and Angelo are running at the head of the pack, with Angelo’s ego spotlighted by the editing. But ever since Hosea’s (devastating, to me) win, I’ve suspected that consistent mediocrity may be a better strategy than taking the lead at the sound of the starting gun.

But let’s get real—you don’t care about that, right? I know I was on the edge of my seat to see how Padma Lakshmi looks this year, post-baby. And? She looks…

…pretty darn good. I pondered whether I should even entertain the topic of Lakshmi’s body, and now the topic has taken over this post. This is, after all, dangerous ground. If I discuss her weight but not Tom’s, then I am applying some sort of gendered distinction. Then again, Lakshmi is a former model, so she has herself offered her body as currency in the past. She has also joked during prior seasons that you can watch her size change throughout each season of Top Chef. Her self-awareness and self-mocking humor, therefore, opens the door a bit to this discussion. Even a former model, it seems, cannot eat rich food for days without some impact.

But there’s another reason I want to discuss Lakshmi’s appearance. Padma Lakshmi is a fascinating figure because of her repeated ability to defy expectations. She is a model who bears a long scar on one arm, the result of an accident when she was a young teen. She discusses her scar here. This scar is a testament to her ability to turn a liability into an asset. Instead of screaming “imperfect,” her scar now reads, “unique.”

Lakshmi is a beautiful woman—she is tall as only a model is tall, with that magical ability only models and Carrie Bradshaw have to wear super high heels. Even without her scar, she would never be “average.” But she does seem to have a unique ability to thrive despite social limitations. Heck, her pregnancy was itself defiant—not simply because she refused to name the father for months but also because she defied her own history of endometriosis to conceive in the first place.

Though her beauty and her success are certainly reasons to be curious about Lakshmi, I’m equally fascinated by how her achievements highlight not only the barriers in place for women but also the difficulty of overcoming these barriers. A simple google search of her pregnancy returns article after article that jumps immediately to questioning who is the father of her baby. Her silence on this matter suggests not only that it is none of our business who fathered her child, but it also, perhaps, implies that single motherhood can be a viable choice (allowed by privilege, of course, but still a choice).

Articles about the subsequent revelation of the father’s identity challenge her silence, and they take care to note the attentiveness of the presumed father to Lakshmi during the pregnancy. The insistent need to name a partner (at least a procreative one) for Lakshmi suggests a culture not yet comfortable with a parenting model that challenges a two-partner, hetero-norm. I get a kick out of the fact that Lakshmi simply decided not to comment at all. Whether the topic is her weight, her scar, or her baby, she seems capable of setting the agenda. That sort of media savvy in today’s celebrity-obsessed age makes me tune in to see Lakshmi’s new body—not simply because I’m curious but also because I’m inspired.

When Lakshmi introduced this season’s judges, including new addition Eric Ripert, she referred to Gail as “the luscious Gail Simmons.” I can’t help but wonder if this was a deflective measure, because Lakshmi is herself looking rather luscious. Her first outfit was a bit of mirage-attempt—a vest that fell flat over her midsection rather than curve around it (fellow women recognize clever outfitting like this). But her second outfit was a lovely, form-fitting turquoise dress that accentuated not only her top section but also her waist. If all women could embrace the curves of their post-baby body like Lakshmi, we’d live in a better world for women.

Photo from a gala, three months after giving birth.