Weight Limit

 

   The next story that I want to share with you has nothing to do with me, yet I felt compelled to blog about something I  witnessed. During the spring, I went to Six Flags with my students on a field trip. I went on rides with some of my colleagues, students, and all in all, had a tremendous day. The rides are safe, and are built to keep people locked in. Right?
     I waited on line, pushing through others to make sure I would align with my colleagues to ride in the same row, when I spotted some commotion amongst the ride workers. I then zoned in on the situation at hand. A man, appearing to be about twenty years old, was told he could not go on the ride. He was too big for the seat, and it would be a safety hazard if they allowed him to continue.
    I watched as he peered around the crowd to see who was looking. His cheeks  were flush, with a rosy touch of shame and embarrassment. I then, looked away, looked down at my feet, where I hid my tears that were unstoppable. I never said a word to this man, never locked eyes with him, and never saw him again, but that day, I felt for him.
    Although I have never been in that situation whatsoever, I know what it feels like to not do something because of who you are. I have never been asked to step off a ride, to order an extra seat on an airplane, because there would never be a need for that. But internally, I am the one who prevents myself from buying that bikini, impulsively taking that ride down to the beach, or feeling comfortable in my own skin.
    Then again, I know who I am, I know what I am capable of, and change is the future.

Signing off,
The Zaftig