Back when The Wizarding World of Harry Potter opened in Orlando, I took my girlfriend (who is from Scotland) as soon as I got the chance. We beheld Hogwarts in its magnificent glory, and made a beeline for the entrance. We had been waiting for this moment for so long. Just to be safe, I tried the “test seat” in front, to make sure I could fit. This was a little embarrassing in itself, but I wanted to be sure. The seat was snug, but didn’t seem to be a problem. Still, I worried. We waited in line for what felt like hours, and finally made it to the loading dock. The employee overseeing the seating watched me as I made my way to an end seat, and came over to pull down the harness. One click. Two clicks. Push, push. “Miss, there have to be three clicks,” he said. He pushed a little harder, shook his head and repeated himself, then unlocked the harness for me to get out, while everybody stared. My girlfriend was sitting next to me, perfectly nestled into her seat. I told her to stay and enjoy the ride. After being directed through the exit, I could feel my entire body burning with humiliation, and the hot tears building up in my eyes. I nearly broke down once I had reached the gift shop, and the whole time I had to wait for my girlfriend to come back from the ride that I had been so terribly excited to experience.

Thin privilege is walking into a theme park without the fear of not being able to fit on the rides. Thin privilege is not having people stare you up and down to size you up while you wait in line. THIN PRIVILEGE IS BEING ABLE TO ORDER AS MANY DAMN BUTTER BEERS AS YOU WANT, WITHOUT JUDGEMENT.