>be me, in window seat waiting for plane to take off
>it's one of the shitty tiny ones with low ceilings, only four seats per row, and no premium leg room upgrades
>knees are brushing the seat in front of me
>at least I can flip up the armrest and use the empty seat next to-
>"Attention ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We're expecting a full flight for today, so please fit all..."
>there goes my one solace
>scan the incoming passengers to see who it might be
>eventually, there's only one seat left next to me
>so are they a no-show, or...?
>just then, I hear a loud *THUD* as someone steps onto the plane
>no
>NO
>what has to be the fattest woman I've seen in person waddles onto the plane
>her fashion sense looks like she ate a PTA's worth of soccer moms and stole their clothes
>she's wearing white jeans that make her legs look like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, a red blouse that fits like it's made of spandex, a canvas purse full of overpriced airport snacks, knockoff Chanel sunglasses, and one of those big floppy straw sun hats
>she lumbers down the aisle, her hips brushing the sides of every seat and seeming like she's about to get stuck
>every few steps, the hem of her blouse slowly hikes up, revealing a couple inches of pale, jiggling belly flab before she tugs it back down with a frustrated grunt
>she comes to a stop in front of my seat, turning to face me (and accidentally giving the poor mother of three behind her a close encounter of the rear kind)
>"WHAT?!" she snaps at me
>apparently I was staring at her, transfixed, the entire time
>I smile sheepishly and stare at my shoes
> after dropping her purse and kicking it below the seat in front, she turns and shimmies into the row of seats, grimacing as the aisle's armrest rakes across the backs of her thighs
>her belly is crammed into the seat in front of her, pushing her breasts up to eye level
>her flanks are only stopped from pouring onto my lap due to the struggling armrest
