When the cast of a new performance of Strauss' Der Rosenkavalier awaited their reviews this week, they could have reasonably expected to find criticism of their staging, singing, or any of the other myriad components that make a great operatic performance on the stage.

Instead, they faced a slew of insults directed at one member of their cast – a young woman and award-winning young vocalist, with a vast array of talent and experience – skewered as "unbelievable, unsightly and unappealing" by the Times, "dumpy" by the Independent and the Telegraph and "chubby" by the Financial Times.

And while the singer in question – the immensely talented Tara Erraught – perhaps more closely resembled Strauss' idea of the character in question, as well as many now plus-size women who appeared in the art of the era, from Renoir to Cezanne – the merits of her performance were, on the whole, overshadowed in favour of derisive body shaming and outright pettiness.

They also fail to take into account the practical implications of size and shape in operatic performance – because, as Alice Coote – acclaimed mezzo-soprano at the Met and Covent Garden – points out: "being underweight is far more damaging to a singer's well-being and performance than being overweight. Similarly I can tell you that if our stomachs are toned anywhere near a six-pack our sound will suffer. The relaxation needed for low breathing is not aided in any sense by an over worked out body."

Now, I don't know much about opera, but one might imagine that a certain level of cultural enlightenment is required to enjoy and critique an opera such as Der Rosenkavalier. Yet the supposedly authoritative, mostly male reviewers chose to make a female body a problem – a female body, one might note, that is not non-normative, but simply not thin and statuesque, propagating the old-fashioned, narrow-minded ideal of the room women should inhabit.

It would appear, then, that talent just doesn't cut it – at least, if you're a woman. From comedian Sarah Millican's Bafta experience – about which she writes: "I thought I had been invited to such an illustrious event because I am good at my job. Putting clothes on is such a small part of my day" – to Olympian Rebecca Adlington's tearful discussion of her own body confidence issues, it is clear that discomfort and shame in one's own body comes to women regardless of their skills or ability. Fat is still a feminist issue – and one which, it would appear, can outweigh any level of talent one may possess.

Now, let's be clear about body shaming – it's not simply a matter of vanity or bruised pride. With 87% of girls aged 11-21 feeling that women are judged more on their appearance than their ability, it's a social issue. And with self-objectification in women leading to a range of issues including – but not limited to – depression, eating disorders and reduced confidence, perceived political efficacy, ambition and cognitive functioning, it's a psychological issue. And with the shaming of talented young women purely on their looks no longer merely the preserve of trashy magazines, or the terminally soulless online gossip columns, it's an issue that broadsheet papers and smugly intellectual publications are engaging with, and propagating, without a thought for the aforementioned facts.

This doesn't reflect well, either on our critics' ability to respectfully review musical performance for its merits, or on an art which, supposedly, lives for the moment that the fat lady sings. By the logic of these writers you'd think it would be better for her to pipe down and go on a diet.