In that way, air travel is sadly familiar, a microcosm of what happens so often as a fat person. I am watched — and judged harshly — as I try — and fail — to fit into a space that was made for someone else. I am always too big, always too much, always unacceptable. I must make myself smaller and smaller, reducing and reducing endlessly, my stubborn body resisting at every turn. Still, I am never quite small enough to make anyone else comfortable.
What it’s like to be that fat person sitting next to you on the plane.
Your Fat Friend
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As a woman who has never been considered ‘fat’ in the traditional sense, but instead ‘chubby’ at points in my life, even I can relate to this — this desperate need to fit in, and mask myself in order to make others comfortable. Too many times I’ve been described as ‘weird,’ and attempted “to fit into a space that was meant for someone else,” not remembering that not everywhere I can fit is where I belong. I know deep inside that I cannot — should not — care, but I still do.

You, my friend, have written something that speaks to a lot of us, even if our struggles are different.