Being Chad Jones

We weren't supposed to be together.

But that didn't stop us. It shouldn't have happened like this. Really.

He was married. And so was I.

I was hired to help with the marketing of his weight loss tech program. At first, it was professional. At first, I didn't even think much about him. He was yet another client whom I helped to write captions and post content on Instagram, posing as him.

Being a social media manager logging into Instagram as a CEO named Chad Jones was a little like that movie title: Being John Malkovich.

"Hey Brother, love your content!" Another tech bro in the biohacking world would say under the caption in the comments.

"Thanks, Bro!" I'd write back, posing as a white guy even though I was a 27-year-old biracial gal. I prided myself as someone with middle-school humor, ready to belt out a butt joke or something more inappropriate.

In short, I was having fun.

But as the months passed, I began to notice I was paying much more attention to my own weight. I began to measure my ketones and fasting glucose, loving the effects of ketosis, the curvier shape of my body, the slimmer selfies I posted on my personal IG account.

And he began to notice.

I noticed likes on my posts from Chad.

He began to Slack me more. On weekends. On holidays. Always under the guise of "work."

"You're practically his work wife," my husband remarked.

"Yeah," I said, a little bitter. But inside I was disturbed. Disrupted. My insides were unraveling something more bittersweet.

As the year went on, my husband began to find me more attractive than the twenty years we had been together. I was posting more selfies of my more attractive self online. I was advocating for the weight loss program that I was following myself. I became the biggest employee advocate they ever had, and before I knew it, I had unwittingly become a micro-influencer. Soon biohackers and other people in the health field were following me online. I loved the attention.

But most of all, I loved the attention that Chad was giving me.

One day, Chad asked me to go to a conference in Florida with him. I said yes. I was to help set up the vendor booth and help answer sales questions from potential customers.

Of course, I made sure I looked good. I wanted to look flawless. We were to meet face-t0-face the first time. So far, all of our interactions had been through Zoom, Slack, Instagram DMs, email and texts.

I wanted to look good in real life.

When we finally met for the first time, he was shorter than I had imagined him. I'm sure he thought I wasn't what he had imagined either. I had been bigger when he first hired me.

But whatever the case, there were sparks. I felt giddy and short-of-breath just being near him. Like that about to go down a steep rollercoaster ride feeling. I suspected he felt it too.

As people stopped at our booths, we worked seamlessly like an old married couple together. We passed flyers that showcased the program, the case studies, and the real-life people who had used this digital coaching program to lose weight and lower their HbA1cs to move from pre-diabetes to normal range again. People such as myself.

That night, after several glasses of pinot noir, we slept together. He had Slacked me after I went back into my hotel room. I couldn't resist.

And after that trip, we began to find excuses to meet. We could expense the trip. It would be a work trip. Then another.

Our spouses didn't even notice.

He began to get more attention online, get investors, find new collaborators, partners and podcast guests. More press.

But then just as suddenly as it started, it ended.

And then it was just awkward to show up on social media posing and posting as him.

I began noticing the women that he followed and liked. Soon there were DMs from other famous Instagram fitness influencers who had the money to not only use Chad's weight loss program app, but to also afford weekly laser treatments, fillers, and other cosmetic procedures like chin implants and liposuction too.

My posts became more and more bitter.

And then I was fired.

Sometimes, now, I still dream about being a puppeteer.

Trapped in the mind and body of Chad Jones.