|I'm going to see Eric Clapton in concert tomorrow night. I should be whohooing, singing zippity do da day, and hey, Layla, you got me on my knees, Layla, all crazy and excited about it.
I'm not. You know why?
No, I'm not talking about where the seats are located, I'm talking about the actual width of the seat. For some reason, the more I eat, the wider my ass gets and the seating on airplanes, in movie theatres, and at ball parks keeps getting smaller and smaller. Why is that?
I mean, really, who wants to sit beside the fat person on an airplane, a bus, or at a ball game. I know the fat person doesn't want to sit beside someone else that is fat. We also don't want to sit beside the idiot that talks on their cell phone, puts too many onions on their dog, laughs at the wrong time or can't handle their liquor.
According to research, most seat widths today are based on the same guidelines that have been in place since 1950. That's right, 1950! In a world where everything is now one size fits all, and homogenized into neat, tidy packages, the joy of seeing your idol takes a backseat to the realization that you're going to have to slather your thighs in Parkay (butter) so you can slide into your seat. Not to mention the bruises that you get from trying to stuff a 2010 butt into a 1950s seat.
So, what are you going to do about it? You could write your Congressman. (I know, why bother) You could write a letter to the editor. (Oh, that's right, newspapers don't exist anymore) You could lose some weight. (Been working on that your whole life) You could stay at home and mope all night. (Are you kidding? Those tickets were expensive)
Well, big butt or not, I'm going, thunder thighs and all. Just remember this, there may be tears in heaven, but there are also tears in my eyes every time I try to fit into one of those antiquated wooden seats. It ain't easy being a middle-aged fat woman...