Fat and flying

I have spent most of my life overweight so I am particularly sensitive to slurs against fat people. I spent my childhood listening to the taunts of mean children who would take my name Elise and contort it to Elsie and then call me Elsie the Borden’s cow.  So I know how it hurts to be fat.

But there comes a point where you have to look at yourself realistically and accept that being fat means there are somethings you can’t or shouldn’t do. Riding a pony if you weigh 300 pounds is just cruel, for instance. Or buying one seat on a plane when you need two or should upgrade to first class is another instance where a little self-awareness goes a long way.

I flew from Anchorage to Salt Lake City recently in the middle seat of a completely occupied row with a very large man in the aisle seat. He was so large that my seat tray couldn’t come down because it hit his stomach. If he shifted so I could get it past his stomach, it stopped when it hit his thigh. Both his stomach and thigh were occupying almost half of my seat. I couldn’t pull the armrest down between us because his midriff spilled over so far that it would not go down. I spent a four hour flight squeezed into a tiny space with a cramping arm that I couldn’t move because he was taking up the space my arm would normally occupy. And gentleman in the window seat did his best to squeeze over so I could have some of his space but nothing short of opening the window and sitting on the wing would help. And the flight was completely full so there was no place else to go.

I feel sorry for people that large. I know the battle of weight and how discouraging and depressing it can be. But there needs to be some regulations that allow everyone to get the space they’ve bought on a plane and to be able to fly in only minimal discomfort.

If you can’t fit into one seat, buy two. But for god’s sake, get the hell out of mine.