Too Fat for Uber
And far too used to the discomfort.
Yesterday, I ordered an Uber so I could bring my daughter home from school. This is something I have done virtually every day since my kid began school in August. It’s not my favorite part of the day. Not only is it expensive ($15 to $20), but it's uncomfortable to deal with strangers and the anxiety if no cars are available.
That said, it all began with the standard anxiety of my afternoon Uber trips, but it quickly devolved into horror. The driver pulled into my parking lot and as I climbed into the backseat with the travel booster, I explained that I needed to pick up my daughter from school and come back home.
It was a small car, and I found myself struggling with the seatbelt.
Oh, crap.
We were two blocks away from home when the driver asked if I had my seatbelt on.
"I'm working on it," I said sheepishly. I didn't know how to actually say the words that I was too fat for it. I wondered if I was going to be kicked out of the car.
"I'll pull over. Take your time." Oh my God, no. I was positive that the seatbelt in this car was never going to fit me. It must have been two inches to short. And I still didn't know how to simply say it.
