© Jacquelyn Johnston, M. Ed.
It’s usually an uneventful Toronto-Vancouver flight, one I took a couple of times a year when I lived in Ontario. Just under 5 hours. This one was a little squishy. You’ll be surprised where diabesity rears its rotund head.
I was alone at a window seat (oh, bliss) until the last minute, when a rather portly woman rolled in, panting like she had been running a marathon. She was the last one in. Noooooooooooooooo! Thought I. Yes. The gods are against you.
Her assigned seat? You guessed it. Right next to mine. So she heaves and ho’s, and hoists her carry-on into the bin, just one second before the safety demo. Her left arm touched mine, and she struggled in vain to comply with the flight attendant’s request that all handbags be stored under the seat in front. Finally, I offered to do it for her.
Next, she turns to me ever so sweetly, and says “Do you mind if I put up the arm rest?” And before I could say “I’d rather not” she deftly flipped it back in the vertical position between the two seats.
Then came the clincher: the left hip. Foomfff! It took over a third of my seat. You know the Michelin Man? Over the edge of her seat and onto mine it overflowed, like lava taking over the valley after a great volcanic eruption.
Now, as I recall, I paid a full fare for that seat. I’d heard that obese passengers had tried to sue the airlines for discrimination when asked to purchase 2 seats. They had rights. They were being unfairly treated. Well, here, my friends, I rest my case. How would you have dealt with this?
Diabesity has its ramifications. Sometime, I’ll tell you what they are in other public places−like hospitals. Meanwhile have a look at what else you might be in for if your waist measures more than half your height. You’ll find the answers in the free report you can download from the right of this page. One very dramatic answer is in yesterday’s blog.
Feel free to leave a comment on this blog with any questions you might have. Cheers!