Somehow I could suffer the indignity of weighing almost 300 lbs, but the thought of being turned away from a ride for being too large to fit in it safely, well, that was one step too far.
When our children were big enough to start trying kiddie rides, I ceded ride-buddy duties to my husband on almost all of them because he could fit. Me? Maybe, maybe not. I know I didn't want to get to the head of the line to find out.
Below left is a picture of me in June 2010, three months before I rejoined Weight Watchers (click for a bigger version). It was proof of the rare ride I went on, I knew I could fit in that turtle, and I did - just barely. I remember that drop-bar was diggin' in pretty hard, but I made it work.
Anyway, cut to last week, on the right. It was a world of difference, knowing I could fit in any ride I so chose. I could wait in line, without anxiety. If the kids wanted to go on a ride, I could go, too.
Later that day I was relishing sitting on a bench while the kids frolicked around a splash pad. A woman came and sat next to me. We exchanged "Hi, thank God, a bench"-es and I noticed she resembled me physically two years ago.
Her husband came over and they started a discussion about who was going on what ride next and she flat-out said, "I won't fit on them." She laughed it off, but I knew it was a front. (I swear I wasn't trying to snoop, but she was sitting right next to me.)
I knew that laugh. I knew what lies beneath. I'm glad it's in the past.
I've written it before and I will write it again: You encounter more victories off the scale than on it. This is one of those.