The Enemy

One of the things I am looking forward to the most from my life overhaul, is that I will hopefully be able to fit my rear in the average public seat.  I am fine having a butt.  I believe a little "junk in the trunk" is a good thing.  I, however, have been well beyond junk in the trunk - and more like "enough junk to fill a semi trailer".  Not attractive.  Not something to aspire to.  That's not hot.

Who is this enemy, you wonder? Who has caused so much angst, that they have earned the rather extreme title: Enemy? Well, people - it is not a who - it is a what. What the what ....drum roll, please.... arms on chairs. For anyone who has had a large butt, or a voluminous caboose if you will, may understand what I am talking about here.  These devices of torture come in many shapes and sizes (just typically not a size large enough to accommodate my posterior).  This traumatic minefield is occasionally unavoidable, and therefore anxiety-inducing.  I live in such fear of the too-small seating, that I have taken to bringing my own chair to almost any outdoor gathering.  If the event is not at a friend's home, I typically do not attend.  How sad is that.  Editing social events out of my life, because of seating?  Really?  That is just silly, and is one of the changes I am looking forward to the most, on my quest to "Slim Down to Sexy".    Below are descriptions of a few of my least favorites.

 You are invited to a friend's house for a bar-b-que.  You arrive to find only the dreaded plastic patio chairs.  Certainly this glorified Ziploc baggie (both made of flimsy plastic) could not have possibly been designed to support rotund rear without splintering into a thousand pieces - leaving me laying flat on my back and feeling like a true winner at life.  In the event that I do chance it, and ease myself as gingerly as possible into the seat - the arms are now stretched out sideways (should you be able to complete compromise the original shape of something you sit on, and have it be a safe option?  I think not) to allow room for my gluteus maximus (maximus, indeed) and the tiny little baby plastic legs are shaking.  The chair starts to sway, as the plastic legs start to bow in.  It is incredibly uncomfortable, and just a recipe for disaster - and by disaster I mean me explaining to someone how I broke their chair with my ass.

That brings us to another trouble-spot.  Airplane seats.  Ahhhh - airplane seat.  You are truly a son-of-a-bitch.  This one is particularly horrible, because it also impacts the people/person sitting next to me.  Thankfully I have had great friends on my most recent trips, who have allowed me to keep the arm up, and spill my big butt into their seat.  It also makes you feel super-awesome to ask for a seat belt extender.  Nothing like announcing to the cabin "hey - did you notice how fat I am?  I can't even use the regular seat belt."  The panic I experience at the thought of having to sit by strangers is crippling. (not to worry - - it isn't bad enough that I hear, smell or see things no one else does)  I made a rule for myself a few months back that I was not allowed to go on another vacation until I could fit in a plane seat.  Being that there is still so much of the world that I would like to see - and it is hard to drive my car through the oceans - this is a big one.  Australia 2011 - - here I come!!

This winter has reminded me how great it is to have warmth and the sun.  The Twins will have an outdoor stadium this year.  Beers, sun and cute baseball players - who doesn't love that combo?  I will tell you who - my big butt and stadium seats.  They are a disaster waiting to happen.  I went to FL last March for spring training for my friend Jason's bday.  The weather was gorgeous, the environment was fantastic, the company was off the charts - and I was miserable (only to the point that my butt didn't fit in the seats - every other factor was fantastic).  I love sports.  I love players of sports.  Sidney Rice is one of my boyfriends. (I have a number of famous boyfriends who don't know I exist)  Football pants are God's gift to me.  It is a crime that I cannot go to the games, and see them in person.  Concerts are typically held in stadiums.  I will not have to skip another concert because of my ass-size.  The music industry needs me. 

I hope this entry didn't come off as a non-stop whine-fest.  That was not my intention.  I am starting a new segment of my life, and along with that comes full-disclosure.  All of the little things I kept to myself, because they were too embarrassing, need to be let out.  I am thinking it has to be therapeutic - - right?  I know that it is me, and me alone, who has gotten my butt to this point.  There is no one else to blame.  But hopefully I will be having an entry down the road of me sitting in a stadium seat, with the sun on my face and beer (or water) in my hand - and I will be cheering on my Twins boyfriend (Denard Span).  And you can bet there will be a picture, and a big smile on my face.