FA is not make-believe

When I was a junior in high school, I was a rock n’ roller. I wore black concert tee shirts, ripped jeans, motorcycle boots. I coveted a black leather motorcycle jacket and had more than one dragon pendant necklace. My hair was long and huge. Metallica was my all-time favorite band and I owned all their albums on glorious cassette tape. I had a friend, who, I thought, was into the same things as me. We hung out together, sneaking cigarettes behind the band room and blasting heavy metal music on the stereo of her blue Ford Festiva while we drove around town after school. We dressed alike and traded 1/2 heart best-friend pendants. She was like a sister to me but over the summer, we were both very busy and didn’t actually see much of each other. When I ran into her after Spanish class on the first day of my senior year, I barely recognized her. Instead of the big hair, concert tee, and ripped jeans I expected, she was wearing a cheer-leading uniform. I was shocked, and when I asked her about it later, she told me that she was never really interested in all that rock n’ roll stuff to begin with. I was crushed, and we never spoke again. I realized later that, in essence, she had been merely trying on that rock n’ roll persona, my rock n’ roll persona, like a little kid playing dress up in her grandmother’s attic.

So when the Zaftig Chicks left the Fatosphere feed to start a new blog where they could, in their words, “talk about dieting, fitness, and weight loss”, I experienced that sense of loss all over again. I’d felt a sort of sassy camaraderie with them and thought that they had a lot to offer the Fatosphere feed through their bold, fun style. But it turns out that they used the feed to get readers, admitting as much in their final post the other day. I stood by them when they were criticized by major players in the Feed for not ‘getting’ FA, but now I just feel betrayed. While I can accept and understand their desire and need to find their own voice out here on the noisy interwebz, it feels really crummy to learn that the life-long patterns of thinking and behaviors which I have been struggling to change, my own inner turmoil, was just a costume for someone else to try on and be noticed in.