Metal Meredith

My kids.

Yesterday, my father posted a blog entry about two flights he has recently taken. The gist, should you not want to go read, is that both times he ended up next to a person of considerable girth or an “exaggerated human” as he puts it.

As I posted a few days ago, I am headed to Atlanta shortly. Against my better judgment, I have decided to fly. I don’t like to fly. I get motion sickness which feature a lovely trio of nausea, dizziness and headaches that lasts until I am able to stand on solid ground again. I am uncomfortable on flights and have been both as a child and as a “Amazon Goddess”. I have been dreading this flight since before I booked it, as I do every one I take. Up until yesterday, I had myself convinced that I was going to be fine, I was sure that I would be seated next to an open seat, the flight wasn’t full so I had less to worry about, etc. But sadly, after reading this post yesterday, all of my fears would rise to the top again, not unlike bile in my throat.

People, I am fat. By all accounts I am morbidly obese. I do not make excuses for my weight. I am fat because I eat too much and do not exercise enough. I am not on a diet but I do not eat ice cream for every meal.

When I read my father’s account of his plane rides, I sympathized with these “deer sized” people that he wrote about. I know that when they booked their flights, when they drove to the airport, walked to the gate and boarded the plane, they were as worried to sit next to my father as he was when he saw them approaching. I know that they read his face, trying to ignore the ‘oh shit’ look that people think they are covering up. And by making small talk about being “packed on this one”, this woman was speaking code for “Look, we both know I am fat but there is little I can do about it in this present moment. Please just be a decent human yourself and accept my veiled apology for intruding on your space. I don’t want to be here, either.”

I lived a life where both of my parents slimmed down when I was in my early teens. After that point, it was not unusual to hear “Looks like that guy had one too many trips to the buffet!” and “We better hurry up before the food is all gone!” when seeing a large person in a restaurant. I worked for a woman who had a snide thing to say about every person that came into her store who was overweight. I quit her store in 1990 and have yet to go back to visit her. I know what the comments will be when I leave, no matter how nice it would be to catch up. This name calling has followed me all of my life, even if it has rarely been pointed at me.

While I don’t think that fat people deserve your pity or any special treatment for something that they are totally responsible for, I disagree with the hurt that comes from these easy judgments. While my flaws are on the outside, easy to see and easy to size up, does it make it any worse than the ones that others can hide?

Vivienne’s school had a Veteran’s Day assembly on Tuesday and the local news came to do a story about it. The real story was about how they did a candy for soldiers drive where kids brought in their non-chocolate halloween candy and donated it to be sent overseas. Vivienne got in on the action, too.

I Tivo’d the newscast so that Vivienne could see it. She really didn’t care all that much. I think that seeing herself online and on home videos on the TV has ruined the magic of being on the small screen. My poor child, she will never be happy unless she is on the ‘big screen’.

Vivienne spotted herself right away. I looked and looked but did not see her until she pointed to herself. Then Phil and I both laughed for a good 5 minutes. Not only is she looking straight at the camera, she is the only one not singing and talking to someone instead. She looks confused and a little off. That’s my girl!

She arrives at about minute 1:17.

*I spent my morning with 2 two year olds, 1 one year old and 1 six month old. It was only 3 hours and I was t-i-r-e-d when it was all over.

*Vivienne’s bus driver was 8 minutes early this afternoon, causing me to run the last 2 block to the bus stop, pushing Henry along in the stroller. She had to close the doors and pull the bus over to wait for all of the moms to arrive. Vivienne was so scared and crying when I finally got there, I had to sit with her for several minutes and explain how it happened. Then, I had to walk home pushing a stroller with Vivienne on piggyback because she wouldn’t let go of me while we were walking home.

*This morning, Vivienne went up to say goodbye to Phil, coming back downstairs complaining that she gagged and almost threw up due to the smell. Tonight, as Phil and Vivienne were dancing (a nightly ritual), Vivienne’s butt was a constant symphony of farting, causing her to giggle, causing more farts and more giggling and more........ you get it.

*After months of trying to get Henry to scoot down the stairs on his butt, Vivienne taught him to lay on his tummy and slide down. After doing it 5 times, Vivienne lifts her shirt to reveal her entire stomach is one big rug burn. She laughs and laughs but then has to lay down the 20 minutes until Phil gets home to sufficiently milk the empathy.

*Henry has discovered that it is much more powerful to scream “Mama!” when he doesn’t want to be sleeping than just to cry. If he gets really desperate, he yells “Daddy!”. It is always drawn out to 3 syllables with a sharp inhale in between. A sniffle and maybe a sad, gaggy cough between fits also helps.

*Something upstairs smells like poo. I can’t figure it out (and we know it isn’t the farting problem, above). How scared am I that we will find a 6 month old dirty diaper stashed somewhere?