In GLOW‘s pivotal Episode 1 moment, Sam (Marc Maron) reimagines a real fight between Ruth (Alison Brie) and Debbie (Betty Gilpin). What starts as a nervous brawl with hair pulling and uncertain blows transforms into a fully produced, kitschy professional match complete with perfect makeup, sparkling costumes, and a packed audience. In that moment, Sam saw GLOW‘s potential, and I saw my own. Five years later, I can only thank this underrated gem for helping me reimagine what my body can be.
Though my best friend never slept with my husband (I’m not even married), I’ve always related most to Betty Gilpin’s Debbie. On some level, I just understood her. Maybe it was because I respected her, this fallen dreamer who got a taste of the fame she always craved and made her own future rather than wallowing in defeat. Maybe it was because Gilpin’s naturally curvy body is similar to my own, a body that refused to be idealistically stick thin no matter how little I eat. Maybe it’s because Debbie has some killer expressions and brutal one-liners.
But the more time I’ve spent away from the series, the more I’ve come to love Debbie for her flexibility. Whereas most characters have a fairly static relationship with their bodies, Debbie’s is all over the place. Based on her career, goals, and even moods, what Debbie’s body means to her shifts. It’s that ever-changing relationship that’s stuck with me even since I first pressed play.
When I first met Debbie, she was already a woman I knew. Though my mom and her friends used Jazzercise to sculpt their bodies instead of aerobics classes, I recognized the way Debbie saw her body because it was the way I had been subconsciously taught to view my own body. Exercise was a means to stay trim. The fact that it released endorphins and gave her a few guilt-free hours away from childcare was just icing on the cake she would never eat because that cake was loaded with calories. In these first few episodes, Debbie’s physical goals revolve around maintenance and how other people see her as she strives to always be TV ready.
That quickly changes halfway through Season 1. Once Debbie goes to her first wrestling match in “Debbie Does Something”, her entire view of her body changes. The hesitancy with which she used to fling herself into the ropes disappears. Her holds look more secure. Hell, even her in-ring yells feel more guttural. Instead of tirelessly working to look camera ready, she lifts, sweats, and grunts in decidedly unsexy ways. For Debbie, much of GLOW revolves around her embracing the power of her own body instead of merely crafting it to appease a male gaze.
No matter how you cut it, that’s an empowering message. But Debbie has one more body transformation that’s often overlooked. In Season 3’s “Dessert Pollen”, the women take a dance class with a group of Vegas showgirls. Most of the episode revolves around Cherry (Sydelle Noel) realizing that a career of stunt and action work can also spell out a life filled with constant disappointment. But Debbie has a revelation about her body too. For once, she can’t keep up with the class.
Frustrated with herself, Debbie trains on the stairs, which is where she runs into the casino’s head, Sandy Devereaux St. Clair (Geena Davis). That conversation is the first time Debbie considers a career path that isn’t reliant on her looks. As far as we know, it’s the first time she has ever viewed her body as just a body rather than an extension of her art. Later in the same episode, she eats a burger with Ruth only to throw it up when she’s alone. Debbie’s food-based demons are still lurking, and if the show was allowed to continue, we would have likely seen more of her potential eating disorder. But for one sweet second, she allowed herself to just exist as a person, enjoying her body as it is. That moment of normalcy felt just as powerful as Debbie’s embrace of her strength.
I know it’s a bit silly to hold Debbie Eagan as body positive role model. Gilpin is a Hollywood star through and through and looks the part, a standard of existence that is unattainable for the average person. But Debbie is the first time someone — even a fictional someone — has made the argument that my body is just as valuable thin as it is strong and I’ve believed them. Seeing Debbie gradually celebrate her power gave me permission to marvel at my own strength. Before GLOW, I was convinced that I was too uncoordinated to ever achieve my fitness dreams. Now five-mile bike rides are part of my daily life, and my weekends are devoted to strenuous crew practices. My body is changing, and it’s been so cool to watch it transform.
And I know Debbie will be there for me when my body will inevitably change again. There will be a time when I’ll face my own dance class, metaphorical or not, and realize that I can’t keep up and I don’t want to. Debbie taught me that’s OK. I will always be bitter about GLOW’s cancelation, but I’ll never stop loving it for the ways it taught me to love my body.
