Shrill offers up hard but poignant truths about the path to self-acceptance

Season 3 of Aidy Bryant's "Shrill" doesn't hold back with its uncompromising realistic portrayal of what it means to be fat, smart, female, funny and own your sexuality

If I’ve been procrastinating writing a post this week it’s not due to lack of ideas. I’ve known for a few days now that I wanted to write about the final season of the Hulu hit show Shrill. What I was having a hard time sorting out was what aspects of myself did I feel comfortable sharing about the level to which this show “got me.”

Shrill hit me like no show I’ve ever watched because it understood a part of me that I long repressed and hid from the world. And that is, that while I used to be fat as a kid, even though I’m an adult now, it’s stuck with me.

It’s stuck with me to the point that when I was in my 20s and went thru the thinnest phase of my entire life and garnered attention that felt very odd for a recovering fat girl, I struggled with what “being pretty” meant. Not to mention, what it means to reconcile with the image and reality of my body as a mother post having 2 kids (but secretly wanting to tell everyone I had 5. Yes I said that.)

This struggle is real btw. To the point that sometimes when I watch shows, even if I enjoy the shows, when they cast ridiculously skinny women that are supposed to be moms that are around my age, I kinda hate them. I know this isn’t rational and it’s raw and embarrassing, not to mention self-effacing to admit this, but this is also the cold hard truth about how women with “normal” bodies that aren’t yoga bodies feel. We’re under-represented and often marginalized.

So yes, Shrill speaks to me. It’s not just because Aidy Bryant’s Annie is a writer. Nor is it how she exposes her imperfections for all of us to witness and shares her vulnerabilities to the point of cringe-y awkward encounters. Cue the first 10 minutes of episode 1 of season 3 if you need this laid out for you. It’s because the show’s sometimes myopic view of Annie’s self-flagellation is real and while painful to watch, it’s also hypnotic and you can’t quite turn away because the path to self acceptance, or at least, awareness is paved with prickly encounters that usually make us uncomfortable.

Annie’s trying hard to love herself and find worthy love despite loved ones (her mom, especially in seasons 1 and 2) and society telling her she’s not enough until she loses the weight. There’s a scene in the first few episodes in season 3 that has Annie visiting the gynecologist who recommends to her bariatric surgery. Annie is upset but doesn’t really voice her frustration at the visit. She then leaves the office and sits in her car waiting for the doctor to come out to her car and then proceeds to yell self-affirming obscenities at the doctor with the window rolled down only to realize that the doctor had Airpods in her ears and didn’t hear a single word she said. This is very reminiscent of the very first episode of Shrill where Annie visits the coffee shop and the barista says she reminds her of Rosie O’Donnell while the pilates instructor gives her an earful about how small her wrists are and how a small pretty woman is just waiting to emerge from Annie’s fat body. All she needs to do is to lose the weight. By season 3, Annie doesn’t want to lose the weight. She wants to move past that being the thing that defines who she is.

#BFFgoals

While body image and acceptance of oneself is at the core of the shows’ focus, there’s a lot more to Shrill than a show about what being fat is all about. One of my favorite overarching storylines in Shrill is Annie’s friendship with her college BFF and roommate, Fran. Fran is bold and loyal and as Annie’s boyfriend Will says, “they are mischievous.” They bring out the fun in one another but they also love one another fearlessly. If there’s a love story to be found beyond Annie’s acceptance of herself and inability to compromise on who she is after 3 seasons of trying to figure it all out, it’s her relationship with Fran.

As a lesbian, Fran is coming to accept who she is, how to love herself. and what that means in the context of her traditional Nigerian English family. Fran’s relationship in season 3 with Em, her serious girlfriend, doesn’t feel forced or “token.” In contrast to Annie’s floundering love life, Fran and Em’s relationship is portrayed as loving and nurturing. They are supportive of one another and can laugh at each other. In short, they are real and they are given as much airtime as Annie which is refreshing.

The supporting cast is great fun with standout performances courtesy of John Cameron Mitchell as Gabe, Patti Harrison as Ruthie, and Jo Firestone as Maureen.

While Shrill has come to an end on Hulu, I have high hopes for Aidy Bryant. She’s such a stellar talent. I love that this show ended on a high note that felt fitting for its run. Oh, and Fred Armisen, of SNL and Portlandia (another great show) makes a Portlandia-eque cameo this season.