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What’s it like to fly when you’re fat?
Brigid McDonald
I reboard the plane. I have been crying. I put my hat down. I do the crab walk back through the what feels like 100 rows. I get to my seat. The gentleman on the aisle stands up. I get back in my seat. I buckle it up. I face the window. I put my hat down and I cried for the better part of the next 75 minutes of this flight.
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