I’m obese, so I bought two seats for myself on a work flight… not for luxury, but for peace. An entitled couple stole the extra seat and called me a “fat jerk.” They thought they could shame me and get away with it. At 35,000 feet, I made sure they regretted every smug word.
I’m Carly and I’ve spent 32 years learning how to exist in a body that society has strong opinions about. I’m obese. Not the kind of chubby that gets cutesy nicknames in romance novels.
I’m the kind of fat where strangers feel entitled to comment on my grocery cart contents. The kind where I’ve mastered the art of making myself smaller in public spaces, even when it’s physically impossible. Which is why I always buy two airplane seats when I travel alone.
My boyfriend, Matt, never makes me feel like I need two seats when we fly together. He’ll lift the armrest, let me lean against him, and somehow make me forget all my anxieties about taking up space. But flying solo to this marketing conference in Westlake?
Different story. I boarded early, settling into my window and middle seats on Flight 2419, lifting the armrest between them to create my little comfort zone. I spent an extra $176 for that middle seat… not because I couldn’t technically fit in one, but because I didn’t want to spend three hours pressed against a stranger who’d shoot me side-eye every time turbulence pushed us together.
I was flipping through the safety card when they appeared. “Babe, look! I can sit right next to you instead!” announced a man’s voice dripping with unearned confidence.
I glanced up to see a couple standing in the aisle—a guy with slicked-back hair and a shirt one size too small and his girl with a perfect blowout and jewelry that caught the fluorescent lights. They were both staring at my empty middle seat like they’d discovered buried treasure. “Sorry,” I said, summoning my polite voice, “I actually paid for both these seats.”
The guy—I mentally dubbed him Mr.
Entitled—did a theatrical double-take. “You bought two seats? For yourself?”
I felt heat creep up my neck.
“Yes, for personal comfort. The middle seat is paid for.”
He laughed, revealing his perfect teeth. “Well, it’s empty, right?
No one’s sitting here.”
“That’s because I paid for it not to have anyone sitting there. Please go to your assigned seat.”
Instead of responding, he simply dropped into the middle seat, his cologne immediately invading my space. “Come on, don’t be dramatic!
It’s a full flight. Makes no sense to waste a seat.”
His girlfriend—Miss Entitled—settled into her aisle seat across from him, leaning forward to join our conversation. “We just want to sit together,” she said, pouting her lips, as if I was being completely unreasonable.
“It’s not that big a deal.”
But it was. His arm was already pressing against mine and his leg brushed my thigh. The comfort I’d paid for…
evaporated.
“I understand wanting to sit together,” I said, my voice steady despite the anger bubbling beneath, “but I specifically paid for this seat so I wouldn’t have to deal with exactly this situation.”
“Ah, c’mon! Just move over a bit,” he muttered, spreading his legs wider. “It’s not my fault if you need extra room.”
“Excuse me?”
Miss Entitled leaned across the aisle again.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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