So today*, I got on the plane to go to a conference for work, and in reaching to put my seatbelt on, I realized that it wasn’t going to fit.

Now, here I am, not ashamed of my size, an outspoken supporter of fat rights, yes? So I knew what I had to do . . . which was to very calmly, and without a trace of shame in my voice, ask for a seat belt extender. Which I did, and I hope I sounded confident and unashamed . . .

The gentleman in the seat next to mine wasn’t so small either, and before we even took off, the flight attendant asked him if he would move to an aisle seat. Now, having been on these fifty-seater planes before, I know that they try to do this “balancing” thing where there are equal numbers of people on each side . . . so I guess the point was that there was too much weight on our side of the plane with the two of us there . . . but I tried not to let that get to me either–

 ESPECIALLY BECAUSE IT MEANT THAT I GOT A ROW TO MYSELF!!! WHOO-HOO!!!

(never mind me feeling like a mean person because this same guy had tried to start a conversation with me when we first sat down–“So where are you headed?” Well, that question was too difficult for me, so I was like, “um . . . ” and finally said, “South Carolina, I guess?!” and he said, “okay, so that’s your final stop?” Now the next thing that a decent person would have done would have been to ask, “So where are YOU headed?” but I didn’t do that, because I’m not a nice person. I gave him the obligatory friendly-but-non-committal smile when I saw him later in the baggage claim area . . . but I just don’t like talking to people on the plane!)