The Center Seat

For anyone who has traveled on the NYC subway system, you will know that the least coveted seat is the center seat. Wedged between two strangers, your experience can vary from being a pillow for a sleepy traveler, being elbowed between the Times and the Post, having your olfactory senses assaulted or just a ride on the subway. The possibilities are truly endless. And it sure beats standing. But the center seats go last, and if your train is crowded, it may be the only option you have of sitting down . . . if you can fit.

There comes a point when you're gaining weight that you don't even see center seats anymore. It's not really a seat at least. It's just some sliver of orange between two seated people. It couldn't possibly have been meant for a whole person!?! I remember someone telling me that our train cars were purchased in Japan, and they were designed for smaller people. (Yeah, and there are alligators in the sewers too.) One day, as a traveler tried to take that leftover sliver of orange, he fell onto my friends lap, and began to public berate her for being too fat. Though she was sitting there minding her own business, it was suddenly her fault he had no balance. Whatever happened to "Excuse me!"?

I think that story has always stuck in my mind because it frightens me. As a kid, I was teased all the time for my weight. As an adult, even in my thinner phases, I've received comments from strangers that were more than unkind and unnecessary. So, the idea of the center seat -- horrifying. Until now.

I fit, comfortably in the center seat again. It's not spacious. But it's not spacious unless you're under 9 years old. Once your feet can touch the floor, it's over. I can sit without feeling like the person next to me is going to pout and get all bent out of shape about it. It may be a silly thing to get excited over, but who cares!?! It's mine and I will have it! Next week, I start riding my bike to work again, so let me enjoy this while it lasts!

41 days. 26.5 lbs. 9 days to go. It has been an epic journey. My friends have been so supportive, and I love you all dearly. Thank you for letting me be melodramatic, and thank you for always being there.

No man is a failure who has friends.