Rubens was a Flemish Baroque painter known for his flamboyant oils depicting big and beautiful women. Anyone who took Art History 101 knows that Rubens is the reason we have the term "Rubenesque" to describe amply built women. And actually, the definition of Rubenesque, according to Dictionary.com, is surprisingly complementary: ". . . having the physique associated with Rubens' portraits of women; plump and attractive."
Somewhere around 1626, Ruben's wife died, and four years later, he
married Hélène Fourment, who modeled for him several
times, including for the aptly titled, Portrait
of Hélène Fourment.
Looking at the painting, you can see that Hélène was Rubenesque. Despite clutching that whatever-it-is around herself, her attempt to cover up seems a bit half-hearted, and she isn't even all that covered. And her right arm, instead of concealing her breasts, seems to shove them up as if she's saying, "Take THIS! I mean, take THESE!"
I can't help liking Hélène who would probably tell you that if you have a problem with her body, including her cattywampus, boosted-up breasts, then you can just get out of the museum. Her husband would no doubt show you to the door.
I wish I were that comfortable in my own skin, especially when my skin has more than the usual amount of me to cover.
Of course, throughout history, in a variety of cultures, good-sized women have been revered. Being heavier once equated to wealth, luxury, and leisure. Similarly, the reason many subjects of Baroque- and Renaissance-period paintings are pale is that a tan meant you might toil in a field every day. So, Rubens, with his affection for bigger women, wasn't alone. There would have been plenty of men sitting around the banquet table with him, raising a chalice to grand and pasty ladies.
Personally, I feel better when I'm not very heavy. I have more energy when I'm somewhere around a size eight or 10. But if you're a Rubenesque woman, and you feel good about yourself and you're healthy, then I say amen, sister!
