What's amusing about being humiliated? Nothing, but heavy people go through life cringing at what's around the next corner.
Amusement parks are a prime example of the fun weight can hinder. I love the thrill of the rides, or I did when I was a child, but as an adult, I've tried to avoid them...until sibling pressure got the best of me. Before I had my stomach stapled I was a ton of fun. Now I'm a half-ton of fun as the medical people forgot to tell you that my metabolism would dramatically change and I have to really alter your lifestyle to keep the weight off. My chances of becoming a jogger are slim and none so, I'm stuck with a small stomach and a big butt again.
My sisters thought an outing to Six Flags would be fun. What was I thinking when I said yes? I'm still not sure why I went because I dug in my heels at every turn. At the wooden roller coaster, I firmly refused to ride because I'd just read a recent article about a fat woman who met her death when hurled through space like a sack of flour when her safety restraints failed to support her bulk. At the time, I hadn't given a lot of thought to dying, but I remember being pretty sure I didn't want to meet my end as a stain on the pavement beneath a pile of wood.
Further down, we found a ride where, while waiting in line, you were actually invited to "try on the car" to make sure it could accommodate you. I passed on that one too. If I try on something, I at least want a fitting room and a curtain for privacy or, if I was really in the mood to humiliate myself I would have worn a "wide load" sign on my butt. I figured I might be safe on the stand-up coaster.
And why not? There wasn't anything but a shoulder harness to hold you in place, and from where I stood, it appeared to be big enough to fit and I saw people my same size and larger on the ride. What I failed to notice was the adjustable crotch support that helped you in case of weak knees, and the person who rode before me must have played for the Lakers.
After standing in line for an hour, you get micro-seconds to secure your harness and get ready before someone hits the "start" button. I was more concerned with getting the harness over my boobs and locked, and by the time I started to adjust the offending crotch rocket, we took off. Six mind numbing minutes of twists and turns, all on my tiptoes. The ride definitely was a new experience and no fun at all, and I don't think I'll ever forget the excruciating pain in my calves and nether region.
Okay...more next week. Hop on over to my friends and see if they can top my story. *lol*
Rhobin Lee Courtright