Hell Is a Fangirl's Life
The following is an essay by a dear friend following the day we spent
hours (I'm not admitting to how many) and countless dollars (not telling there,
either) in the fabric store searching for just the right fabrics to construct
our costumes for Otakon.
It made me laugh.
So I put it here to share with you. If for some reason, you find this offensive,
well, I didn't write it. The completely faint of heart should check out now.
(Though honestly, I can't imagine people seriously getting offended, one can't
be to careful.)
Hell, is a fangirl's life
It truly is.
It's hard, cruel, and often times lonely. You think it's easy to
pour over the books and design books to create costumes that was never
meant to be translated into this world? To find ways to make spandex look
good on a NORMAL person? Find ways of making capes billow, dresses poofy,
cutouts that stay where they are supposed to?
Is it so easy to stand around for hours in spiky high heels and
smiling, waving and posing?
To endure the ridicule of the nitpickers that find the most minute
flaws and imperfections?
To be kind, funny and charming?
To not pull away in horror at greasy lecherous fanboys?
No, it's not easy being everyone's favorite toy and plaything.
So, why do we do it?
A good deal of the fascination has to do with the desire to dress up.
After all, how often can a grown woman get away with wearing brightly colored
spandex with strategically placed cutouts? How often can we walk around
with blue hair, spiked heels, and look more comfortable in that, then
our regular business suits and tailored dresses?
However it is more then that. It is the desire to live out the
dream. Everyone grew up with their own heroes, their own ideals, and
for us, the fangirls, we did not find the life of a Barbie doll desirable,
nor that of the "good" little heroine, waiting for the knight to come save
Rather, we read tales of heroic women, and brave ladies that save the
These are not whimpering, long suffering, June Cleavers, who worry over
the pot roast and mud on the carpet. They are women that are brave,
fearless, and smart. They can be good, or they can be bad, but through it all,
they persevere on the strength of their own will and desire.
Is this not a better idol then the Barbie doll mold?
So why is it so hard to understand the passion of the fangirls?
Oh sure, we dress up, something rather scantily and risqué, but is this
not part of the allure? To be more then who we normally are, to break out
of our shells and the molds that life and society has placed us, and
instead, break lose and become more then who we are.
We love the flash of a camera, the sparkle in every fanboy's eyes when
they see us. We live for the question "May I take a picture of you?". Our
hearts pound just a little harder, and our smiles a little brighter,
with every double take and second glance bestowed upon us.
It is more then ego mania, or a need for attention. It is more then
any pop-culture sound bite, or stereotyped buzz word. It is the feeling
of acceptance and the realization of a dream life that you never knew you
It's a feeling of liberation and of joy. A feeling of satisfaction and
a realization that sometimes, life really is worth living.
The strain and stress from sewing well into the night. The agony of
matching your blues and finding the prefect yellow. The pain of aching
feet and numb smiles. All forgiven and forgotten.
Yes, Hell is a fangirl's life...
But we wouldn't have it any other way.
The Cherry Blossom Festival
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