thisisthinprivilege:

Being thin means you don’t just have the support of the world; you also have the support of all of the world’s objects.

Thin privilege is not being afraid of the sounds that chairs, stools, ladders, and benches make.  Thin privilege is knowing that when you hear those sounds that:

• the chair/stool/ladder/bench won’t break
• if it does break, no one will think it’s your fault
• no one around you is wondering whether it is going to break, and no one around you is already picturing how hilarious it will be when it breaks

Thin privilege is buying cheap patio furniture without fear. Thin privilege means you never half-sit gingerly on a chair to test it first.

Thin privilege is not having to death grip the table and balance precariously at the optometrist’s office because you can’t get your face into the chin cup/head brace for the glaucoma tests while seated otherwise.

Thin privilege is not being rejected for a mattress’ 20-year warranty replacement when the springs wear out on one corner after 2 years.

Thin privilege means you never get glared at for taking the escalator or the elevator.  Thin privilege means you can buy beautiful older houses without having to do tons of renovations to adjust them for your size.

(submitted by TsuKata)

I’ll keep going:

Thin privilege means you don’t have to fight the nurse for the larger blood pressure cuff at the doctor. (I don’t know why the nurse at Planned Parenthood fights me on this — every other nurse is happy to do it.)

Thin privilege means you don’t have to wonder about sports equipment, medical equipment, massage tables, etc., “Is that rated for my weight?”

Thin privilege is not leaving a concert or sports event with bruises on your hips and cramps in your legs because you can’t fit in the theatre/arena seats.  (Tall thin people get an exemption here.)

I won’t even start about airplanes.  I think we’ve already talked about airplanes to death.