Stress I Don't Need

Being overweight makes everything more complicated.  For those of us who are self conscious, insecure, and uncomfortable in our own skin, most normal activities don't come easily to us - everything is a chore!

The obvious nightmare is shopping.  Clothes, bras, bathing suits (gulp) - if I'm brave enough to venture into a changing room with my potential purchases, it almost always ends in tears.  Over the years, I've learned that it's just easier to shop online, and try it on in the confines of my own bedroom, where I can laugh or cry in private.

Almost as stressful as clothes shopping is eating in public.  Restaurants are bad enough - I always feel like if I order anything but a salad the "chubby police" will come and issue me a ticket for reckless consuming.  Now, occasionally, Ben and I will go for ice cream (or frozen yogurt).  God forbid!!!!  I can just feel the eyes on me, and can almost hear people thinking "Oh, yeah, like she needs to be eating that!"  Maybe this is just my own insecurity talking, but there it is just the same. 

While it's probably not surprising that I find these seemingly simple activities stressful, this next one may come as more of a shock. 

Nowadays, many people are nervous about flying.  Between lines at security, delays, layovers, mechanical difficulties, and those darn terrorists - it's gotten to be something of a headache.  While I am still plagued by all these factors when traveling, the thing that seems to get me the most worked up is the actual riding in the plane. 

I hate (yes, using the H word) airplane seats.  For days leading up to my travels, I worry and stress about whether I'm actually going to fit in the seat, and if I'll be able to get the seat belt fastened!  As someone with broad shoulders, long legs, and wide ("birthing") hips, I can't remember the last time I was actually comfortable on an airplane.  I don't know who they had in mind when they designed those silly little seats, but it certainly wasn't a grown adult taller than about 5'2! 

And don't get me started on what happens if  I happen to be seated next to someone else who is less than petite.  I hate fighting for the arm rest, or worse, being next to the guy who just assumes the armrest is his, and has no qualms about planting his elbow squarely in my ribs.

At least when I travel with Ben, we can put up the armrest between us, so that I can "overflow" into his personal space, rather than into the poor soul on my other side.  Gone are the days of having empty seats on a plane, when there was often a middle seat with no occupant, and you could spread out a little bit and relax. 

So, with our trip to Ohio coming up next week, the stress has already taken hold.  I'm wondering who will be next to me during our red-eye flight (and if I'll have to plaster myself to Ben in an attempt to keep all the parts of me from wandering into someone else's seat), how big the seats will actually be, and whether I'll be able to click the seat belt without having to suck in my stomach until my face turns red and I see stars!

I know that there's not much I can do about it - I'll be the same size on Tuesday no matter what, unless I chop off one of my arms, but even that wouldn't affect how the darn seat belt fits anyway! 

Instead of contemplating amputation any further, I'll keep plugging along with what I'm doing, while fantasizing about the day that I don't have to worry about whether my tushy will fit comfortably into the seat! 

Weight in # 3 tomorrow - fingers crossed!!!