It's official. I'm too fat for life.
Flying to Michigan lately made me come to terms with how my weight has influenced even the smallest choices I make. For instance, I like to sit at the window or aisle seat on a plane, not because I don't like sitting between two strangers, but because I like to cross my legs in order to make the area that my ass takes up as small as possible. But this time flying, even though I had a child next to me, and on the return flight had no one in my row (that part was pretty awesome, I'll admit), I realized: I am too fat to fly without embarrassing myself. In April, when I flew, I don't recall having any particular issues, except for the ugh these seats are so small I hate flying issues. Normal, I think. This time around, the seat belts barely fit. Did they shrink? I can tell you right now that I am not fatter than I was then. What happened? It was just very unfortunate to be me.
Another decision that is influenced by my weight is even the activities I chose to do. In high school I pretended that I was too shy to swim with my friends, and that I didn't feel like swimming, because I didn't want them to see me in a bathing suit, when in reality there is nothing that I enjoy more than swimming. I absolutely love water. I also have issues when sitting in small boats, wanting to travel, and basically self confidence in general. I have dreams of climbing trees, flying in small planes, bungee jumping, running around and just playing with the children in my family. But all of these things are restricted because of my weight. It's terrible. Other things like squeezing an extra person into the car are uncomfortable for me, because I know it would be easier if I weren't there. Sharing a bed with another person makes me unhappy. Hugging even makes me slightly anxious. This weekend, we walked about a half mile to a bar in between the wedding and the reception, and I was coatless. It was Grand Rapids MI. It was cold. And I was offerred a coat. But how shameful, if the coat didn't fit. I would laugh it off, but inside a little part of me would die just a little bit. Not to mention that the walk to super uncomfortable because hey, my legs rub together. Awesome, right?
Is the misery of being fat really it? I'm not sure what's more difficult: the emotional turmoil that is being fat, or the road to being skinny.
