I Wanna Be a Flight Attendant! (But tiny voice in head says "No")

So I was watching View From the Top (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0264150/ )starring Gwyneth Paltrow a while back, and I suddenly remembered that I once had this dream of becoming a flight attendant, just because people used to tell me (back when I was thinner - if those times ever existed) that my height was fit for it. I honestly toyed with the idea, especially since traveling is a frustration/guilty pleasure of mine. I thought, only a few jobs could let you work AND play at the same time right? And then reality hit me. I can't be a flight attendant. I just can't. And the tiny voice in my head (yes, my tiny voice is a nagger) told me why.

1. I got motion sickness.

I actually never had motion sickness during flights (probably because I love the thought of riding planes), but I get a bad case of it especially with cab rides in Manila. I don't know why, but there's something with the way those drivers transition from releasing the clutch and stepping on the gas pedal. I know there's a slight chance that those drivers could be pilots by day, but times are tough and they could be working part-time. I don't wanna take that risk.

2. I have poor balance inside moving vehicles.

A simple elevator ride could send me from one corner to the other just by picking up an object on a floor. Whenever I have the urge to pee on a flight, I try to hold it as much as I could until we land (I know, it's bad) 'cause I have this fear of tripping on the floor if I walked down the aisle. As we know, flight attendants walk a lot the whole time, and a LULIT (native term for a "wuss") cabin crew won't help.

3. My huge hips are not conducive especially for local planes with smaller spaces.

Believe me, I've gone through so much pain and embarrassing moments with these hips. I literally get bruises because of constant bumping on table edges, chairs, and the like. My patients suddenly rouse from their deep sleep just because my hips hit on something solid no matter how consciously I move. Worse, I get stuck on tiny chairs (and this happens a lot), and it takes some squirming (and a few seconds of utter humiliation) before I could free myself from it. Sure, it's perfect for childbearing and all, but it just doesn't fit the job requirement. Unless, of course, I go international. Bigger aisles, less accidents.

And the list goes on.

After giving it much thought (and feeding myself with negativity), I decided to stick to my profession for now. It's a far cry from the glamorous lifestyle of flight attendants (they never had to monitor poop and vomit for 8 hours), but I'd like to think this is where I truly belong.