“You’re a fraud.”

[This post was initially supposed to be about packing food for a weekend-long party when you’re trying to watch what you eat. I failed with the eating and I failed with this blog post. Enjoy.]

Someone called me a fraud the other day. I laughed and heartily agreed. “Yes ma’am, I am!”

She didn’t even crack a smile.

I have a habit of talking too much and this weekend I talked a lot about being vegan(ish), but I was totally cramming my mouth full of beef chili and macaroni-and-cheese at a party.

Let me back up. I arrived at a weekend-long party with good intentions. I had healthy snacks in the car. I had some fruit; a container of cooked oatmeal; a snack mix of dates, raisins, seeds, and nuts; some unfrosted vegan cupcakes for emergencies; and a giant bottle of Maker’s Mark.

My first night, I was careful about what I ate. I did sneak some Goldfish, but I ate quinoa for supper. The next morning, I quietly heated up some oatmeal while the host of the party chopped some sirloin for his chili. By Saturday afternoon, I was piling that chili, along with cornbread, mac-and-cheese, chicken and sausage etouffee, and cookies onto one single plate before going back for seconds and thirds. This is when I was called a fraud.

The comment came from a person who doesn’t read my blog (gasp!), so my stupid little jokes about going vegan were completely lost on her. Although I’m serious about taking care of myself, I’m not serious about my diet. But she wouldn’t know that. And I justified her comment as a result of her not really understanding me.

Nothing gets under my skin more than someone making a false assumption about my behavior. Over the years, I have been called passive-aggressive for making plans with one co-worker within earshot of another (it still makes my throat close to think of that); I have been accused of having an affair with someone (I could barely type that through my clenched fists); I have hurt people because they thought my careless actions were intentional (I don’t want to give examples because it still makes me weepy); and I have been ignored because people have considered me self-sufficient and stable (I still can’t wrap my head around that one). So this woman who viewed me as a hypocritical gasbag? She was killing me.

The more I tried to explain, the less interested she was. I slowly realized that maybe I am not as charming as I think I am. Since I’m an extrovert who talks too much, that realization was heartbreaking. She made several judgmental comments over the course of the weekend, and finally outright told me she is annoyed by people who talk about their dietary restrictions.

But, I thought. But. I’m self-deprecating and delightful!

She did not smile at me. She did not want to engage in conversation with me. When I told a story, she would either interrupt or talk over me. 

I made my second realization.

This woman did not like me.

Of course, the more someone ignores me, the more I need them to acknowledge me, so I turned into the Looney Tunes abominable snowman. A funny thing happened. The more I engaged her in conversation, the more I got to  know her. Finally, by the second day, I made my third realization–the most liberating one of all.

I did not like her either. 

With that weight taken off my back, I went about the business of having a great time, eating what I wanted, and spending time with the people I adore while chatting with the people who know I am comprised of 50% bullshit, 25% bourbon, 15% sarcastic bitch, 10% jackass, 5% smarty pants, and 100% not good at math.

What’s not to love?

Sarah Devlin

About Sarah Devlin

Sarah Devlin has been writing about the recreational industry since the late ’90s but ironically can’t run, swim, or bike a mile.