The world first fell in love with the endearing Mara Wilson in the early 1990s. She was a child actor best remembered for her roles as the bright young girl in beloved family films like Miracle on 34th Street and Mrs. Doubtfire.
The rising actress, who turned 37 on July 24, looked like she was ready for big things, but as she got older, she lost her “cute” factor and vanished from the big screen.
She continues, “If you’re not cute anymore, if you’re not beautiful, then you are worthless. Hollywood was burned out on me.”
To find out what happened to Wilson, continue reading!
When five-year-old Mara Wilson played Robin Williams’ youngest kid in Mrs. Doubtfire in 1993, she won over millions of fans’ hearts.
When the California native was invited to feature in one of the highest-grossing comedies in Hollywood history, she had already made appearances in advertisements.
“My parents grounded me even though they were proud of me.” My mother would always tell me that I’m just an actor if I ever stated something like, “I’m the greatest!” Wilson, who is now 37, remarked, “You’re just a kid.”
Following her big screen premiere, she was cast in 1994’s Miracle on 34th Street as Susan Walker, the same character Natalie Wood had performed in 1947.
Wilson describes her audition as follows: “I read my lines for the production team and told them I didn’t believe in Santa Claus” in an essay for the Guardian. “But I did believe in the tooth fairy and had named mine after Sally Field,” she writes, referring to the Oscar-winning performer who portrayed her mother in Mrs. Doubtfire.
“Very unhappy”
Next, Wilson starred with Danny DeVito and his real-life wife Rhea Perlman in the 1996 film Matilda as the magical girl.
Additionally, Suzie, her mother, lost her fight against breast cancer in that same year.
“I wasn’t really sure of my identity.I was two different people before and after that. Regarding her profound grief following her mother’s passing, Wilson explains, “She was like this omnipresent thing in my life.””I found it kind of overwhelming,” she continues. I mostly just wanted to be a typical child, especially in the wake of my mother’s passing.
The young girl claims that she was “the most unhappy” and that she was fatigued when she became “very famous.”
She reluctantly took on her final significant role in the 2000 fantasy adventure movie Thomas and the Magic Railroad at the age of 11. “The characters had too little age. I reacted viscerally to [the] writing at 11 years old.I thought, ugh. I love it, she says to the Guardian.
“Destroyed”
Her decision to leave Hollywood wasn’t the only one, though.
Wilson was going through puberty and growing out of the “cute” position as a young teenager, so the roles weren’t coming in for him.
“Just another weird, nerdy, loud girl with bad hair and teeth, whose bra strap was always showing,” was how she was described.
“When I was thirteen, no one had complimented me on my appearance or called me cute—at least not in a flattering way.”
Wilson had to cope with the demands of celebrity and the difficulties of becoming an adult in the public glare. It had a great influence on her, her shifting image.
“I had this Hollywood notion that you are worthless if you are not attractive or cute anymore. Because I connected that directly to my career’s downfall. Rejection still hurts, even if I was kind of burned out on it and Hollywood was burned out on me.
Mara in the role of author
Wilson wrote her first book, “Where Am I Now?,” before becoming a writer. “Ancidental Fame and True Tales of Childhood,” published in 2016.
The book explores “her journey from accidental fame to relative (but happy) obscurity, covering everything from what she learned about sex on the set of Melrose Place, to discovering in adolescence that she was no longer ‘cute’ enough for Hollywood.”
In addition, she penned the memoir “Good Girls Don’t,” which explores her experiences living up to expectations as a young performer.
In her Guardian column, she states, “Being cute just made me miserable.” It was always my expectation that I would give up acting, not the other way around.
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I Came Home to My Husband and His Ex Digging My Garden, What They Hid Years Ago Made Me Pale
From the start, he was kind and attentive, always willing to listen to me vent about my day, never once distracted by his phone or looking bored. He was everything I thought I needed.
What sealed my affection for him was when he showed up on my doorstep with homemade chicken soup and a collection of my favorite rom-coms. “Everyone needs a little TLC when they’re feeling down,” he said with that charming smile of his.
This is it, I thought. This is the man I’ve been waiting for.
One of the things that endeared Martin to me was his nervous stammer. When he was anxious or stressed, his words would stumble over each other, and I found it adorable. It made him feel more real, more human.
Like the time, a month into our relationship, when he took me to a fancy Italian restaurant for our “monthiversary.” He was passionately explaining the new accounting software at his firm, waving his fork around, when it slipped from his hand, sending tomato sauce all over his shirt. His face turned beet red.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” he stammered, looking mortified. “I d-didn’t m-mean to m-mess up.”
I reached across the table, took his hand, and smiled. “It’s okay. Red suits you.”
He laughed, and the tension melted away. That moment solidified my belief that he was someone I could truly be with.
As our relationship grew, Martin opened up about his past, especially about his ex-wife, Janet. He painted a picture of her as someone constantly chasing more—more money, more status, more things. “Nothing was ever enough for her,” he’d say, shaking his head. Their marriage crumbled under the weight of her demands, according to him.
“I couldn’t keep up with her. It felt like I was drowning, and she just kept pushing me under,” he confessed one night. I vowed I’d never be that way—I would love him for who he was, not for what he could provide.
So, when he proposed a year into our relationship, I didn’t hesitate. Our wedding was intimate and beautiful, and it was the happiest day of my life.
But last Tuesday, everything changed.
I had just returned from visiting my mother and decided to surprise Martin with his favorite lasagna. As I pulled into our driveway, I slammed on the brakes when I saw two figures digging in our garden—Martin and Janet.
For a moment, I thought my eyes were deceiving me. What were they doing together? And why were they destroying my garden?
I stormed out of the car and marched over to them. “What’s going on?” I demanded, anger rising in my voice.
Martin froze, dropping the shovel. “M-M-Margaret! Y-you’re h-home early!” His familiar stammer only confirmed my suspicions—he was hiding something.
All the worst thoughts flooded my mind. Was he cheating? Why was Janet here? Why were they digging up our yard?
“We were just…” Martin began, but Janet interrupted.
“She deserves to know, Martin,” she said, wiping her hands. “We buried a time capsule here, ten years ago.”
“A time capsule?” I echoed in disbelief.
“Yes, from when we lived here together,” Janet explained, gesturing to the metal box at their feet. “We always planned to dig it up someday.”
Martin looked sheepish. “Y-yeah, we thought it’d be fun to reminisce.”
I stood there, stunned. “So, you decided to destroy my garden for your little trip down memory lane?”
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t,” I snapped before walking into the house, slamming the door behind me. Inside, I paced back and forth, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. How could Martin keep this from me? And why on earth would he prioritize his past with Janet over our life together?
I heard the front door open and the sound of hushed voices. Then Martin called out, “Margaret? Can we talk?”
I stepped into the hallway, where they stood with the muddy time capsule between them.
“What’s there to talk about?” I asked coldly.
“Please, let us explain,” Martin pleaded. “It’s not what you think.”
Janet chimed in. “We just wanted to look back. There’s nothing more to it—”
“Fine,” I interrupted. “Go ahead and dig up the past. I’ll be outside.”
I stormed out of the house, feeling a mixture of anger and betrayal. As I looked at the mess they’d made of my garden, an idea formed in my mind.
I gathered wood for a bonfire. By the time the fire was roaring, the sun had set. I could hear Martin and Janet laughing inside, likely over something from the time capsule. I called out, “Why don’t you bring that stuff out here? We could have a bonfire.”
They joined me, bringing the capsule with them. I picked up a handful of its contents—old photos, letters, trinkets. Without hesitation, I tossed them into the flames.
“What are you doing?” Janet gasped.
“Burnt bridges should stay burnt,” I said firmly. “It’s time to focus on the future, not the past.”
As I watched the fire consume their memories, I realized something—Martin wasn’t the perfect man I thought I’d married. He was flawed, just like anyone else.
Janet backed away, her face pale. “I think I should go.”
Neither Martin nor I stopped her as she left. Once we were alone, Martin turned to me with tears in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Margaret,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t know how to tell you about the capsule. I was afraid you’d think I still had feelings for Janet. I just wanted to get it done before you came back. I messed up. Can you forgive me?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, staring at the fire. “You’ve broken my trust, Martin. That’s not something you fix overnight.”
“We have a lot to talk about,” I continued. “But not tonight. Tonight, I need some space.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Martin said, defeated, before retreating into the house.
I stayed by the fire as it slowly died down. The garden would need to be replanted. New seeds, new life. Maybe our relationship could be the same.
Only time would tell which path we’d choose. But one thing was certain: Martin would never be the same in my eyes.
What would you have done if you were in my place?
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