So. Here’s one thing that really sucks about being fat – nowhere are you more of a pariah than on the T. Nobody wants to sit next to you and you can just feel the squeeeze. Oh, it can be bad. This morning, I took a seat with empties on either side, which is good because I can establish my (larger than average) personal space. But who comes to sit next to me? Someone even fatter, I swear. At least, I dearly hope she was fatter than me because I hope the crush of human flesh I felt when she sat down next to me is not what others feel when I settle in next to them. I’d simply die. Although there’s a whole catalog of things I once thought I’d “simply die” before doing, like graduating from college fat, walking down the aisle fat, getting pregnant fat (haven’t quite accomplished that one yet, but I hope to). Squeezing people in on the T is fast becoming one of them, I fear. Anyways, this woman was huge, and I could not even keep my butt in my own seat. Together the two of us were taking up 2.5 seats. So embarassing! No-one sat in the .5 seat next to me until this long-haired old guy wedged himself in. Ick.
How funny is this! Everyone else is like, “ick, fat lady, I don’t want to sit next to her”, and meanwhile I’m thinking, “ick, long-haired smelly old guy. I don’t want to sit next to him!” One would hope that the close quarters of urban living would make us more accepting of different people. I guess it makes us outwardly tolerant of others, but my mind is always occupied with what people must be thinking in their heart of hearts at every moment. And I always imagine it to be nasty. =) Maybe I should experiment with imagining that people are thinking very nice, sweet things about me. Like, “oh look! I’m going to sit next to that nice-looking fat woman, she’ll be sure to keep me warm!”
Ewww.