I’m Fat. I Bought Two Plane Seats. A Rude Couple Tried to Take One. They Regretted It.
Hi, I’m Carly. I’m 32 years old, and I’ve spent my whole life learning how to live in a body that the world constantly judges. I’m not just a little chubby. I’m obese. The kind of fat that strangers think gives them permission to comment on what I eat, how I look, or even what I put in my shopping cart.
It’s the kind of fat that makes you feel like you always have to shrink yourself. I’ve gotten good at making myself smaller in public—even when I physically can’t.
That’s why, whenever I travel alone by plane, I always buy two seats. Not for luxury. Not to show off. But for peace. For comfort. For space I deserve.
When I travel with my boyfriend, Matt, I don’t worry as much. He’s amazing. He lifts the armrest, lets me lean on him, and makes me feel safe. With him, I forget all the little panics that come with taking up space.
But this time, I was flying alone to a marketing conference in Westlake. And solo flying is a whole different game.
I boarded early, like I always do. I found my row and sat down in the window seat. The seat beside me—the middle one—was also mine. I had paid an extra $176 for it. I lifted the armrest and stretched a little, enjoying my small bubble of comfort.
I wasn’t trying to be fancy. I just didn’t want to be squished for three hours, worried that every bump of turbulence would make some stranger glare at me. I just wanted to fly without feeling ashamed of my body.
But peace doesn’t last long when entitled people show up.
I was flipping through the safety card when I heard a loud, annoying voice.
“Babe, look! I can sit right next to you instead!”
I looked up. A man and woman stood in the aisle, staring at my empty middle seat like it was their golden ticket. He had slicked-back hair and a shirt that was clearly too tight on purpose. She looked like she’d stepped out of a salon ad—perfect makeup, hair, jewelry that sparkled in the plane’s harsh lights.
I already knew this wasn’t going to go well.
“Sorry,” I said politely, “I actually paid for both these seats.”
The guy laughed like I’d told the funniest joke in the world.
“You bought two seats? For yourself?”
I could feel my face heating up, but I stayed calm.
“Yes. For personal comfort. I bought the middle seat so it would stay empty.”
He rolled his eyes and shrugged.
“Well, it’s empty, right? No one’s sitting here. So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that I paid for it to stay empty,” I said firmly. “Please go to your assigned seat.”
But instead of leaving, this guy—let’s call him Mr. Entitled—plopped himself right into the middle seat like he owned it. His cologne hit me like a fog. I was stunned.
“Come on, don’t be dramatic! It’s a full flight. No point wasting a seat.”
His girlfriend—Miss Entitled—sat in the aisle seat right across from him and leaned over.
“We just want to sit together,” she said, giving me a fake pout. “It’s not that big a deal.”
But to me? It was a big deal.
His arm was already rubbing against mine. His leg was pressing into my thigh. All the space I’d paid for? Gone.
“I understand wanting to sit together,” I said, trying to stay calm, “but I paid for this seat so I wouldn’t have to deal with this exact situation.”
Mr. Entitled smirked.
“Ah, just scoot over a little. Not my fault if you need extra room.”
“Excuse me?” I snapped, finally showing some anger.
Then Miss Entitled dropped the line that made everything worse.
“Oh my god, just drop it already. You’re being a fat jerk about this!”
Loud enough for the whole section of the plane to hear.
An older woman across the aisle looked away, clearly uncomfortable. A man a few rows ahead turned around, eyebrows raised.
I had a choice. I could call the flight attendant right away and make a big scene. Or… I could wait. I smiled.
“Fine. Keep the seat.”
They looked confused—but I had a plan.
Once we hit cruising altitude, I opened my bag and pulled out a family-size pack of kettle-cooked chips. The loud, crinkly kind.
“Hope you don’t mind,” I said sweetly, ripping open the bag with a dramatic pop. “I always snack when I fly.”
I made a big show of getting comfortable. I leaned a little more into the space I’d paid for. Each time Mr. Entitled tried to scoot away, I moved a little more in.
He tried to shift? I shifted more.
Crunch.
Rustle.
Sip.
I pulled out my tablet and held it wide so my elbows took more room. I reached for my water bottle and “accidentally” nudged him.
“Could you…?” he started, annoyed.
“Oh, sorry!” I said brightly. “Tight quarters, you know?”
Twenty minutes of this and he was fuming. I could feel him burning up beside me. He kept looking over at Miss Entitled, who was rolling her eyes like it was all my fault.
“Can you please stop moving around so much?” he finally snapped.
“I’m just trying to get comfortable in my seats,” I replied, popping another chip in my mouth.
“Seats? It’s one seat. You’re in one seat.”
“Actually,” I said calmly, “I’m in one and a half seats. The half you’re sitting in? I paid for that too.”
His face turned red.
“This is ridiculous.”
“I completely agree.”
He punched the call button above his head. A tired-looking flight attendant with a sleek bun showed up.
“How can I help?” she asked.
“This woman is making it impossible for me to sit here. She keeps elbowing me, eating in my face…”
She looked at me.
I raised two fingers.
“I paid for both these seats.”
She took out her tablet, tapped through some info, then nodded.
“Sir, both seats—14A and 14B—were purchased by this passenger.”
Mr. Entitled’s mouth dropped open.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid I am,” the flight attendant said. “Your assigned seat is 22C. You’ll need to move.”
He stood up slowly like the plane had turned into quicksand.
“Have a pleasant flight,” I said, giving him a grin as he squeezed past.
But Miss Entitled wasn’t done.
“You really bought an extra seat just because you’re too fat for one? That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard.”
The flight attendant’s whole body stiffened.
“Ma’am, that kind of language is completely unacceptable on our flights. Please refrain from personal comments about other passengers.”
Miss Entitled just huffed and turned away, her cheeks red.
They disappeared to the back of the plane.
I finally let myself breathe again. The flight attendant—her name tag said Jenn—paused beside me.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Not your fault. Thanks for checking.”
“If you need anything else,” she said, “just press the call button.”
An hour later, I saw chaos near the back of the plane. Mr. and Miss Entitled were standing up again, arguing with another flight attendant. I could hear them even from my seat.
“We just want to sit together!” Miss Entitled whined.
“Someone offered to switch!” Mr. Entitled added.
“Sir, you’re blocking the aisle,” the flight attendant said calmly. “Please return to your seat.”
I watched it unfold like a movie. Then I pressed the call button.
Jenn came over.
“What can I help you with?”
I spoke quietly.
“Earlier, when they were sitting here, the woman called me a ‘fat jerk.’ I know there’s probably not much you can do now, but… it really upset me.”
Jenn’s expression changed instantly.
“Actually, there is something we can do. That’s harassment, and we take it seriously. Would you be willing to file a complaint when we land?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
“I’ll make a note of it. And for what it’s worth—no one deserves to be spoken to that way.”
Her words hit me hard. All those years I’d tried to disappear, to apologize for my body—and here was someone telling me I didn’t have to. That I had a right to be there.
“Thank you,” I said, holding back tears.
When we landed in Westlake, I stood up and looked down the aisle. Mr. and Miss Entitled were halfway up.
“Excuse me,” I said loudly enough for several people to hear. “Next time, you might want to think twice before stealing someone’s seat and insulting them. Some of us are just trying to exist without being harassed.”
Miss Entitled’s face turned bright red. Mr. Entitled pretended the overhead bin was suddenly very interesting.
An older woman near me gave me a small thumbs-up. That meant more than she probably knew.
Before I left the airport, I filed a full complaint. Three days later, in the middle of my conference, I got an email from the airline:
“We’ve reviewed the incident reported on Flight 2419 and have noted this interaction in the passengers’ profiles. This type of verbal harassment violates our passenger code of conduct and may affect their future boarding privileges. We sincerely apologize for your experience and have added 10,000 bonus miles to your account.”
I sent the email to Matt.
He wrote back right away:
“That’s my girl. Taking up exactly the space you deserve.”
And that’s the truth. Whether it’s a seat on an airplane or space in this world—no one has the right to make you feel small. Especially when you paid for your place.
That flight didn’t just get me to Westlake. It reminded me of something I wish I’d learned long ago:
You never have to shrink yourself just to make someone else comfortable.