The not so friendly skies

Nothing brings home the reality of being fat than flying. Airplanes, for those who aren’t independently wealthy, are never comfortable, no matter what your size. But for those of us with a few (or a lot) of extra pounds, it can be an even more trying experience,

The seats are small and you are closer to your seatmates than anyone should ever be with a stranger. You are surrounded on all sides. A little bit of belly fat slides across the arm rest every time you shift to try to get more comfortable. And you aren’t quite sure what to do with your arms. You can’t keep them comfortable away from your body. There just isn’t enough room. Do you rest them on your stomach, drawing even more attention to your bulk? Ram them against your sides and live with the discomfort? Sometimes, I put the tray table down and lean on it, pretending to be so engrossed in my book that I don’t care that I resembled Quasimodo on a bad day, and praying that there will be enough room between the edge of my tray and my bellybutton. I can’t imagine the pain it causes people who are heavier than I am.

It seems that every time I have a good day and I start to feel pretty confident about myself, I am thrust in to another situation that shines a spotlight on the fact that I am no where near the person I want to be. I think that is something that those who have never been overweight will never understand. There are so many situations where your weight becomes the focus. From something as simple as walking by a window and catching a glimpse of yourself from the side to being stared at or forced in to a confining airline seat. It’s impossible to escape the fat and I find it to be overwhelming at times.

It doesn’t help that I am on my way home. I want to be confident and proud of what I have accomplished but it’s not nearly enough for me. Why should it be enough for anyone else? The glow of my shopping trip has worn off and all I can seem to think about is how fat I still am and that is all people are going to see. I don’t want to see those people from high school. They might not even notice or care but, again, I will be reminded that I am something less (or more, I suppose) than I once was. I will compose in my head all the horrible things they all *must* be thinking of me. Probably much worse than anything they would or could ever come up with, as I am an expert at such negativity . But it’s something very difficult to turn off.

I found myself overeating yesterday as I prepared for my trip home. I was consciously aware of what I was doing and I made little effort to stop myself. I am regretting it today, of course, as I sit here in this tiny seat. Rationally, I know I did not gain all the weight back overnight, nor do I look worse than I did yesterday. But the emotional toll is still weighing on me. Why do I let my little fat girl demon come out? Why can I sometimes stop her when other times I am powerless? How could I eat a whole tortilla after I’d gone *months* without even craving one?

I was literally sitting in my favorite burrito place, talking to myself inside my head. “You are going home and it will be stressful! You need something to soothe you! You haven’t been hungry for days so a few extra calories, fat grams and carbs won’t kill you.” You know the worst part? I didn’t input any of it in my food diary. Not one thing that went in my mouth yesterday was recorded. I can try to play it off as being too busy but we all know that is a lie. I just didn’t want to deal.

And I still don’t. Plus, I am petrified! I don’t want to slide backwards. I’ve made it so far. So much farther than ever before. If I let it get to me and I start to make excuses, eating some pasta here and some fries there, how long can I do that before I fall off the wagon and end up right back where I started from?

Okay, I think my back my seize up if I sit like this any longer. I have more I want to say but being able to walk during my vacation is probably important.