Your Seat Belt Must Be Securely Fastened

seat belt“Whenever the seat belt sign is on, your seat belt must be securely fastened. For your safety, we recommend that you keep your seat belt fastened and visible always when you are seated. To release the seat belt, just lifted the buckle.”

Thank God I flew American Airlines this trip.  Continental and Delta flights tend to make me feel fat. That’s because their seat belts are designed for folks with a Scarlett O’Hara waistline (18 inches for those of you who don’t read much.), which I don’t have.  I did once, when I was 4, but I’ve lost it since, and, like my abs, have never found a politically correct replacement.

To date, I haven’t needed to ask for a seat-belt-extender, but that’s only because there are elements of my flesh that can be, uhhh, repositioned as it were.  That post baby lump under my belly button that never left after the baby was born 33 years ago is adjustable.  Up, down, right, left.  It will go pretty much wherever I put it.  It just won’t go away.  This past week, I logged my 370th mile this year on the treadmill, and the lump remains, bouncing joyfully along with every step, while never giving an inch.

Thus, by hoisting, twisting, and straining, the seat-belt has always clipped into place, but once it is successfully clasped, I offer a silent prayer that my seat mates won’t need to use the loo.  Yesterday, on both American and Alaska, I had inches to spare.

Since this is my belly pulpit, I need to raise the issue of traveling body builders.  Watch me bodybuildercringe when I see one of these mutants coming down the aisle in my direction.  Normally, I have no objections to male pulchritude, witness my frequent viewings of “Predator”.  Still, before others complain about “tubbies”, “fatties”, and the “grossly obese”, they should try sharing space with one of these steroid-ad behemoths.  While their waistline may be a size 10 and the envy of every girl around, the abs, pecs, and biceps are 5X Double D!

One fellow I sat next to had three hour affair with my right breast, without my consent.  His shoulders came so far over into my domain that when refreshments arrived, I had to eat my pretzels and drink my soda by leaning into the aisle.  Nearly lost an ear and elbow when the cart came by on its return trip.  Not one word of apology was offered as he crushed my shoulder, smothered my nipple and occupied a third of my seat.  Let’s face it, next to one of these flesh and muscle mountains, a mere mortal of whatever size doesn’t stand a chance.


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