Thin privilege is never having to deal with shit like this while you’re at work:





(I am working the reference desk. I have a great rapport with our patrons, and am often complimented for my positive attitude.)

Me: “This is the reference desk. How can I help you?”

Patron: “Can you tell me why fat people are so defensive?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Patron: “Can you tell me why fat people are so defensive?”

Me: “I can find you some materials on obesity, or prejudice faced by obese people perhaps—”

Patron: “I just want to know why fat people are always so angry.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am; I don’t think I can answer your question.”

Patron: “See! You’re angry!”

Me: “I’m sorry; do I know you?”

Patron: “No, but I’ve been in your library before, and I recognize your voice. You’re fat. Why are you so angry?”

Me: “Ma’am, I consider your question offensive and bigoted. Would you ask that same question about a particular ethnic group?”

Patron: “You’re a f******* fat b****!”

(I’d like to say this conversation didn’t shake me, but I felt ashamed of my appearance for the rest of the day.)