Social

As far as I am aware, the fear of sitting next to a large person on a plane has never been classified as a diagnosable phobia. Despite this, I have a feeling that psychologists and counsellors would fill any group therapy sessions they wished to offer on it. Whilst I will concede that airplane seats are designed for maximising custom, over comfort, it still surprises me that such complaints conjure a sympathetic response. Often from the same people who would be quick to chide, were the complainant lamenting sitting next to someone based on other aspects of their identity.

​I have not had the opportunity to fly on many occasions. Holidays being the reserve of those with some form of disposable income or borrowing power. But I am slightly discouraged from doing so, due to a defining experience on the last flight I took, some years ago. Being inexperienced in the vagaries of air travel, I was late to the gate for departure, boarding the plane at a time in which most passengers had already taken their seats. Wandering up the aisle I could see the concerned faces of anyone with room next to them, worried that it may be stolen moments before take-off. Hearing the relieved sighs as I passed a number of seated travellers, I squeezed myself up the narrow gangway towards the back of the plane, where few empty seats remained.

Glancing at my ticket and the row numbers above me, I spotted a vacant middle seat, sitting between two passengers who had already taken their places and were expectantly spreading out onto it. The man in the aisle seat, spotting my gaze, looked at me with a concerned expression, as he moved his book and headphones from the free space to his left. The look of concern spontaneously turning into a smile, when the significantly smaller lady walking in front me stopped to his side and asked if she could squeeze past him and sit down. His relief manifesting in impromptu laughter as he stood up to let her in. I progressed on to my seat, which was not so much further down the plane that I couldn’t hear her apology for taking his arm room, along with his reply that he didn’t mind, regarding her as the lesser of two evils. This prompted the whole row of three to giggle in unison, with a few passengers seated around them also sharing in the joke.

I will say that this was not the first time I was judged to be a poor choice of seat neighbour, due to my size. I was often refused a place on the school bus by those sat next to it, with some kind enough to pretend that they were saving it for a friend, but others explaining that rejection had been saved solely for me although normally expressed in crueller terms than I would like to share here. Children have a way of unbridled honesty that can take one by surprise, they are also, in my experience, very good at spotting a vulnerability and exposing it. With even those you once considered acquaintances turning against you if it suited their own strive for popularity.

I seemed to spend most of my childhood falling out and occasionally making back up with my peers. The tricky years of my early life proving to be ones of varying acceptance and rejection. This was not exclusive to me, with many of my contemporaries suffering a similar fate. Those in the desired gang, along with those pushed out of it, fluctuating on a weekly basis. In my school much of the influence in such things, came from one adored child. The one we all wanted to be, with them dictating with whom we would play, talk and party. Depending on their whim or will at the time, you could be included as one of the chosen few or excluded as one of the undesirables.

I can recall primary school rejections based on a new haircut, open mouth chewing, or trying too hard in lessons. All of which, at various times, resulted in banishment to the opposite side of the playground. Someone even once stopped talking to me because I was eating baked beans one lunchtime, this silence not just enduring over that meal but for the rest of my time at that school. These years, although they didn’t seem like it at the time, were simpler than those that followed, with such social connections becoming infinitely more complicated when the resounding flood of hormones dragged us into adolescence. Suddenly, all we cared about was how we compared to others and in particular how we were viewed by potential partners.

Attractiveness could be both a welcome and an unwelcome trait. Was someone useful to bate the opposite sex towards a group of expectant but rather shy teenagers, or would their celebrated facial features or physique leave little attention for anybody else? Others could be pulled into the group if they had a talent that was temporarily desirable; funny kids, singers, dancers, athletes would all be welcomed for the duration of time in which they proved useful. But for that time only. Those of us deemed less appealing, whether for physical or personal reasons, were usually dispatched to form our own group, where it was perceived, we could do no further harm.

In time most people found their place, discovering a group of friends amongst whom they could safely navigate the complexities of secondary school. I was dispatched by all others to the left-over pile, commonly referred to as the Pick ‘n Mix, a term initially coined by a teacher but one that endured until well after we left school. We were an eclectic collection of cast offs, none of whom could find a home or supporting social structure elsewhere. Amongst our number were the larger members of the school year along with a couple of the smaller ones. Indeed, at that time my best friend was by far the smallest person in the class, whilst I was deemed to be one of the biggest. Though we averaged out nicely as a pair, we made quite the odd couple, lurking in corners and hiding in classrooms, whilst the rest of our class played merrily together.

There seemed a strange dichotomy for those finding themselves at opposite ends of the size spectrum at that time, that appeared to intensify with age. Whilst my petite and diminutive friend became cute or sweet, as the years progressed, I seemed to become larger and less popular. There appeared a charity to those of frugal growth that wasn’t apparent for those of us in excess.

I am not saying that individuals who linger below the average size are not judged in any way, and I will acknowledge that the way everyone looks is considered and appraised at some point, but still it would seem that largess is the target of as much social intolerance as any physical characteristic. Whilst there has been a strong move against discrimination on the basis of hereditary, religion, or conjugal preference. Leaving only aged relatives too many sherries into the latest family reunion to offer unwelcome thoughts on such things. It would appear that we are all able to discuss publicly whether those of above average size should pay more for transport, clothes and health care.

We can discuss our misfortune on having to sit next to them in the cramp confines of public transport and still receive sympathy from those around us. We can openly offer advice to those who, we think, should want to change their physique to fit in with our belief of how it should be, and we are free to discuss, in the press and in public, how we should target efforts to reduce larger members of society at all ages. We can even publish endless stories about the physiques of celebrities, whether revered or ridiculed and people will still read the articles with surprising interest. No doubt discussing them with friends.

It seems unlikely that there will be any growing movement to reverse this prejudice. So, we can either succumb to society’s pressures and lose weight, or we can persist resolutely with the way we act, look and feel, rejecting bigotry as a form of influence. Some would say we could take advantage of such prejudice. No one is as revered as those who have lost the weight everyone thought they should. More celebrated are those who have slimmed, than those who never needed to. So now is an opportunity for us to become the adored child, the social leader, or the shining example. Although we might not have known it at the time, our weight gain could merely be setting us up for the chance of future glory. It may be the foundations for a popularity we never thought we would experience.

Perhaps though, rather than change ourselves in a bid to fit in, we should change society’s view on those of us who are carrying a few extra pounds. After all, we could expect most of the population to be on the larger side in a few decades, leaving us to bide our time until we have sufficient social support from similarly sized individuals to turn the weight of public opinion against the more judgemental. After all, isn’t it time we started sitting next to people based on what they bring to the party, rather than how much space we think they’re going to take up?