Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Taxi

I know. We're all thinking it, so I'm just going to put it out there.

I'm fat.

And I'm ok with that. Really, I am. My hope is that you're okay with that too.
My mom likes to point this out a whole lot. So does her family. She insists that doing so is a cultural thing. I insist that it's a family thing.

Unfortunately, she didn't seem to remember this whenever we were riding a taxi with my cousin and her husband. My cousin would slide into the backseat first, my mom would follow. Unfortunately, she wouldn't always slide across to the middle of the backseat.  She'd leave about half of a seat's worth of space and then gesture for me to get in.

Then, I'd gesture for her to scoot over. She'd tell me to get in. I'd tell her to scoot over.

It's a vicious cycle. I'd finally just try to fit on half the seat, then close the door on myself to show her that I really am not a magician and I do really need a whole seat.

After about 6 to 8 taxi rides, mom says "Hey! I have an idea. Maybe YOU should get in first."

There is a God.

I agreed, said thank you, and hopped in before she could change her mind. And yes, for a brief second, thought that this would be a great opportunity to leave her half a seat. I let it pass, because I can't consider myself evolved if I make the same mistakes. The thought did make me giggle a little bit though.

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