The Lighter Side of Large (39 page)

The Dad counts down, flashing his fingers at us, then the light turns red, and music swells to signal we are live to New Zealand.

Haley Hagen smiles at the camera. “In this week’s
That’s Outrageous
segment, we’re talking with Isabella White, whose editorial in the Nelson Post and Nelson Courier sparked a wildfire of interest in the subject of discrimination against the obese.” She turns in her chair to face me. “Isabella, thank you for coming on the show today. Tell us what happened which led to you writing the editorial.”

I panic. Do I look at Haley or the camera? Out of the corner of my eye I can see the red light over one of the two cameras so I know if I am going to look into one, that’s the one. I decide to keep my focus on her. “A few months ago…” I begin, my voice shaky. But as I recite the story, it’s like I’m hearing someone else and the real me is an observer. The audacity of how I was humiliated is more shocking. Even Haley seems genuinely stunned and she’s probably heard it all and seen it all. Confidence surges through me; I sit up straighter; my voice grows stronger. I am Bella; hear me roar.

“And so what did you want to accomplish with the newspaper editorial, which is titled
A Big Form of Bigotry,
and has gotten an enormous amount of positive feedback?” Haley prompts. As she says the word “enormous,” dismay flashes in her eyes. The topic is obesity and she just used the word enormous. But she keeps a plastic smile plastered on her face and waits for my answer with a blush.

Now I do look at the camera. “My goal in writing the editorial is not to bad-mouth the AmandaE franchise or any clothing retailer who doesn’t carry plus-size clothing. I do, however, want to make people aware of the prejudice that obese people face. I have a blog called
The Lighter Side of Large
where I post about the funny yet embarrassing situations which fat people encounter on a daily basis. We are trying to fit into a world, which is tailored to a certain size person, and sometimes that ends up backfiring. I also talk about the disparity between overweight people and normal or thin people, how someone who’s overweight is more likely to get passed up for a job or a promotion simply because of their weight, even when they’re the most qualified individual for the job.”

“So it really is a form of discrimination,” Haley nods.

“It most certainly is,” I echo. “We’ve all seen applications which state that a business doesn’t discriminate on the basis of race, gender, religion, or disability, but in fact, they still do discriminate on the basis of size. I’m just trying to get the word out that overweight people are people, too. Some of us are big because of our own bad eating habits. Others have thyroid issues and can’t lose weight. Obesity is not a recent phenomenon. People have been overweight throughout the history of civilization and obesity is not going to go away. And so there needs to be greater understanding and compassion for the overweight.

“Are you saying there should be special treatment for the obese?” Haley asks, reading the notes in front of her.

“Not at all,” I reply. “Just treat us like who we are - your fellow human beings. Just be nice. Don’t stare. Bite your tongue instead of muttering insults and jokes because we can hear those insults and jokes. Most people are not going to be in extended contact with an obese stranger, but while you are around them, treat them as you would a skinny person. Do unto others.”

Haley smiles at me. “Isabella, thank you for coming on the show and bringing this issue to the forefront.” She turns to the camera. “If you would like to read the article,
A Big Form of Bigotry,
you can on our web site, Channel Eleven Action News dot com. You can also read more from Isabella on her blog at the bottom of your screen.”

“Coming up next,” Sam Martin jumps in, “Seven great desserts you can make in under two minutes. Our Channel Eleven chef, Yuichiro Omori, is in the studio and ready to whip up some tasty treats.”

•

“Isabella?” Mama Rose says on the other end of the line.

“Mama Rose, did you see the interview?” I squeak. I can barely contain my excitement as I sit at the hospital, waiting for Pa’s chemo treatment to finish.

“Of course I saw it. You looked
biutiful,
dear. And well-spoken. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Mama Rose. I can’t believe I was just on television.”

“And did Jae watch it, too?” Mama Rose asks. The question seems innocent enough, but it’s loaded. Though she accepted that Jae is my white boyfriend, he is still under the microscope and has to prove himself.

“Yes, Jae saw it and called me after it was over. He was impressed as well.”

“
Lelei, lelei.
I won’t shop at AmandaE and I’ve told the whole family not to. You are right to stand up for yourself.”

“Yes, well, I still have to write to the president of AmandaE and send them a copy of the article.”

“Good. What happens after that?”

I paused. “I don’t know. I guess keep writing about weight discrimination on my blog and see what happens.”

“Don’t write too much, dear. I hardly see or hear from you any more. Or do you spend all your time with Jae?” Mama Rose complains. I bite my lip. It is true that all my spare time is spent with Jae and I haven’t visited Mama Rose as often as I should. I hadn’t been to Café Crave for weeks and only see Sands when I go to the gym to work out, which isn’t as often as before. “Is he coming to the wedding?”

Oh brother,
I groan inwardly. The wedding. “Are you sure Tiresa and Mika want me there?” I ask. Tiresa failed to uninvite me the last time she was at my house and I hadn’t spoken with Mika since the engagement party -

Tiresa now picks up and drops off Abe and Fi, so I never see him anymore. But despite my near-death experience, I know my sister. She does not easily forgive or forget.

“Bella, you are family. Of course you are wanted there,” she replies, not answering my question.

“I’ll ask him,” I sigh.

“Ask him soon. I need a final head count for the reception. Now you’re sure you’re coming? It means so much to - Frank,” she says hurriedly. She means it means so much to her, but uses Dad as an excuse. Dad is walking Tiresa down the aisle.

“I’ll be there,” I assure her.
Whether I like it or not.

•

Three weeks after the television interview, I’m standing with Jae at the departure gate of Nelson Airport.

“I still can’t believe it,” I say. “My blog has turned into a weekly column for the Post, and now
Fab You
wants me to write a monthly feature.” I hold out my arm. “Pinch me.”

“Why?” Jae laughs.

“Because I must be dreaming,” I say. “Pinch me and wake me up. No, scratch that. This is the best dream ever. I’ve got a hot man seeing me off at the airport and another potential job on the horizon.” Also known as regular income.
Something maybe Jae doesn’t appreciate like I do, but just think: regular income!

Jae looks around. “Who is this hot man and why is he seeing my girlfriend?” he jokes.

I punch him playfully and he catches me around the waist and pulls me close. “I always knew you were an amazing woman, Ms Bella White, and now the rest of the world is finding that out,” he murmurs.

“It’s happening so quickly,” I say, averting my gaze from his smouldering eyes. If I look at him, I know I will be tempted into conduct unbecoming for public viewing. “Who would have thought my thoughts and cartoons on being a fat, single woman would resonate so well with readers? My blog went off the charts after that TV interview.”

“Bella,” Jae places a finger under my chin and lifts it so I have to look at him. “You are not fat.”

I giggle. “I’m glad you think so, but I’ve got about 10 kilos to go to achieving my ideal weight.”

He shakes his head. “You are ideal. I wish you didn’t think that you have to change anything about yourself.”

I smile and stand on my tip-toes to give him an Eskimo kiss, rubbing my nose on his. “Thanks for your vote of confidence, but just think: when I’ve got the perfect body, I’ll have no more funny things to say about being overweight and my blossoming writing career will be finished.”

A voice comes over the intercom system, announcing that my flight is now boarding. Jae hugs me tightly. “I’ll miss you and will be here tomorrow to pick you up.”

“I’ll only be gone overnight. Are you that dependent on me?” I tease.

Jae’s eyes smoulder again. “That’s a whole night without your kiss,” he whispers. I open my mouth to breath because he’s taken my breath away, but his lips close over mine. When we part, my heart is thumping. “Call me,” he says and lets me go.

“Okay, I will,” I say and stumble through the gate and across the tarmac to the plane. I wonder just how dependent I am on Jae that he affects me so much. Mika never made me dizzy.

I’m still tingling from his kiss when I stop in my tracks while going down the airplane aisle. I can fit! I can actually walk down the aisle and my hips don’t touch both sides. I laugh to myself as I look for my seat. A man in a business suit is already seated on the aisle. I have a window seat. I lift up my carry-on to put in the open overhead compartment. “I can get that for you,” a young man standing next to me says as he finishes stowing away his bag.

“Thank you,” I reply. “Excuse me,” I say to the businessman. He stands up to let me by and lo and behold! My butt doesn’t smash him into his seat. My butt doesn’t touch him at all. I sit down and buckle my seat belt, yet another victory. For a few minutes I sit there laughing to myself. What a difference five dress sizes makes. I can hardly wait to use the restroom to see how well I fit into it. I won’t need a backup alarm to back into it, nor a giant shoe horn to slip on and off the loo.

And then I stop laughing. Struggling down the aisle is a severely obese woman. Panting from the exertion of simply walking, bouncing off seats, and inadvertently knocking other passengers aside, she’s the picture of exhaustion and shame. “I’m so sorry,” she says multiple times. As she passes by, I smile and give her a sympathetic look. I know how she feels. I write because of people like her. But she averts her eyes, withdrawing into her own bubble of indignity.

The man next to me raises his eyebrows in speculation as she squeezes by. “I hope she bought two seats, otherwise she’ll get kicked off the plane,” he murmurs to me.

His words are prophetic. As the stewardess walks down the aisle making sure everyone is buckled in, I hear her quietly ask the woman to fasten her seat belt. “It’s a good thing no one’s next to me,” the woman laughs, trying to make light of the situation.

“Ma’am, if you’re using two seats, you have to purchase the second seat. It’s the airline’s policy,” the stewardess says.

I peer between my seat and my neighbour’s to see the exchange. “But the…” the woman begin to protest.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the stewardess says firmly. By now this whole section of the plane is listening. “If you aren’t able to purchase a second seat, you must get off the plane now so we can leave on time. I’m sure you understand how the other passengers don’t wish to arrive in Auckland behind schedule.”

My heart aches for the woman as she sighs and unbuckles her seat belt, one side from the seat next to her and the other from her seat. She struggles to get up, struggles to get her luggage down from the overhead compartment, and struggles back up the aisle. The stewardess stays by her side, wearing a blank expression. The plane is quiet as she exits. It is an uncomfortable situation for everyone.

I was on a flight before where a rude passenger was escorted off by airport security for being loud, obnoxious, and even threatening the crew. As he was handcuffed and taken away, the passengers cheered. We were united in our common dislike of the man and our relief that he was ejected from our lives.

But no one cheers as this woman is ejected from our lives for being too fat to fit in one seat. We are united in our common discomfort, empathy, and for some, mockery of her and the situation. But it is not cause for celebration.

As the plane taxis down the runway, I breathe a prayer of thanks that when
Fab You
magazine offered to fly me to Auckland for an interview, I didn’t have to ask for two seats.

•

A Jaguar picks me up at the airport and whisks me to the Fab You offices. They’re located on the top floor of a skyscraper, affording a magnificent view of Auckland harbour, crowded with cruise ships and ferries. I introduce myself at the receptionist’s desk and am ushered into the posh office of the editor-in-chief.

“Ms White, welcome,” Maggie Dylan gets up from her desk to shake my hand. “How was your flight?”

“Smooth and uneventful,” I reply, trying to sound professional. I want to make a good impression and glance over my attire for the umpteenth time. Am I dressed professionally enough? Is my hair okay? Too much make-up? Not enough jewelry? Compared to Maggie, I feel like a frump.
Then again,
I remind myself,
she’s the editor-in-chief; I’m a stay-at-home mum. She’s had more practice being professional.