June 15th, 2006


Just another Thursday commute.

So this morning, I got on the T at Harvard. There was one seat available on the side of the car I am on. The problem with it is was it was in a bank of three seats, and there were two women already sitting in them who needed 1? seat each. However, I am getting off at South Station, a good seven stops from here, and dammit, I'm over 40 and I don't want to stand all that way.

Yeah, I can totally see myself becoming one of those cranky old people who act like the world owes them something because they've been living in it so long.

So I just, sit down, between them. They scooched over infinitesimally, but I was still wedged in there pretty tightly. Their rather prodigious thighs pressed against the sides of my legs like a girdle. Which, I was feeling pretty fat this morning, what with the scale stubbornly telling me I weighed 137 this morning, so it was kind of nice.

At Charles, a seat opened up in the bank of three across from where I was sitting, and I scuttled across the train to sit in it. As I sat down, I -- completely unconsciously -- exhaled deeply. The man I was now sitting next to kind of chuckled at me, so I guess he'd been watching me. "Kind of tight?" he asked. I sheepishly nodded. I noticed my former seatmates reclaiming their territority; I'm sure they hated me the way I hate tiny, perfect little engaged blondes, and I'm sorry about that...but what am I supposed to do? Not sit?

It's almost getting to the point where I feel like an oppressed minority, apologetic to the overweight majority for not being obese.