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Abstract

a half hour flight/travel anxiety ridiculousness cocktail of mental… mentalness?Where was I? Oh, that’s right. I wanted a second cup of tea. The tea-making apparatus was in the back of the plane and I was in the front (Life’s too short not to fly first-class), so first I had to waddle my ass down the aisle trying not to bump anybody’s shoulders with my hips, like a really awkward and anticlimactic game of pinball.Upon arrival at the aft of the plane (Do plane’s have an aft, or is that just for ships?), I asked for a cup of tea. And tea was made.There were three flight attendants chilling out back there, playing on their phones that I’m sure were on airplane mode. When I asked for milk and two sugars, one of them took the opportunity to say, in a comically cheery voice, “Two sugars! You only need one! One tastes the same as two!”I kinda blinked a few times. I mean a) I’m pretty sure sugar’s sweetening effect is in fact cumulative, according to the volume of sugar applied and b) Did I just get SUGAR-POLICED for real?I am one of those people who has been so indoctrinated with a terror of back-talking anyone involved in air travel that I would probably accept almost any indignity with a placid smile, for fear of otherwise next waking up in a cell in Guantanamo. Which is odd, because in most other areas of life I am super on board with challenging authority. I guess my ability to fly is more important to me than standing up for myself. I really need to work on that, Rosa Parks would be disappointed.All of which is a real bummer. Because what I would liked to have said — with a big smile and a cheerful demeanor — is that the number of sugars I put in my tea is none of her fucking business and I’d suggest in the future she keep her commentary on the beverage choices of complete strangers to herself.AND one sugar most assuredly does not taste the same as two. PLUS if the tea on this plane didn’t suck so badly it wouldn’t NEED any sugar at all. And ALSO: fuck you, lady. While I’m at it. Because I was feeling defensive the second I

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got on board this giant metal tube of supersonic claustrophobia in the first place.Her apparent friendliness and corporate-enforced enthusiasm didn’t make me feel any better about what she said either — critical comments from strangers about your dietary choices are weird and unwelcome and unnecessary, no matter the context or the tone of voice they’re delivered in.I was also thinking WHYYYY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME? Do I look like someone who is receptive to advice from strangers?But instead I hemmed and hawed until her coworker, another perfectly perfect size zero with a face like stock photo, handed me my damn tea and then I waddled back to my seat juggling my searing cup of tea and my hips and thought about how dumb it is that people can make tiny little good-natured comments like that and still be so annoying, if not genuinely traumatizing — depending on their target.When I got home, I emailed the airline’s customer service department and received a typical brushoff reply. Something along the lines of “We’re sorry you didn’t enjoy your experience, here at Blah, Blah Air, we take providing a comfortable environment for all of our guests very seriously and strive to uphold a culture of inclusivity in all that we do.”I persisted in my attempt at holding the attendant accountable, which was responded to with what amounted to a bribe in the form of a discount on my next flight. Which is already paid for by my employer anyway. When pressed, I was told “the matter will be handled internally.” Which, as a veteran of HR, I know means, “please kindly fuck off now.”Sure, this is an incredibly minor event as far as social justice issues go, but minor events add up quickly, and help to support a culture in which this sort of thing is considered OK. I still don’t understand why we think it’s ever any of our business to comment out loud on what someone else eats or drinks. This is why so many women feel so much shame every time they order food in public.Can we stop it?Can we at least work on it?</article></body>

A Flight Attendant Fat-Shamed Me and the Airline Sided With Her

I’ll confess I’m not the most relaxed flyer. For one, I’m a little on the curvier side so the tiny seats and lack of legroom are never comfortable. For another, among the many forms of anxiety I live with, travel anxiety is probably the least pleasant flavor, no matter what I chase it with.

A big part of my travel anxiety is associated with the combination of a fear of heights and motion sickness, for which I am notorious. Part of it is purely irrational what-if-the-plane-crashes fear. And part of it is related to that whole being fat thing again, because women above a size twelve learn to be wary of air travel as we can never be sure when our body positivity is going to be challenged by an airline employee that was recruited in no small part for the size of their waist.

So yeah, me and flying are not a happy couple, although we are companions that must spend quality time together fairly often, considering how frequently I travel for work.

As you can imagine, I was not in my most cheerfullest mindset on a six and a half hour flight from Tampa to New York yesterday. About four hours in, I was feeling very much in need of a second cup of tea.

Did I mention this was a morning flight, and morning flights are a thing I basically NEVER TAKE because the aforementioned anxiety is like ten thousand times worse if I’m having to wake up early to get to the airport, because I stress that my seventeen alarms won’t go off so I wind up barely sleeping which ironically makes it HARDER to wake up on time and get to the airport on time and without forgetting anything?

Also can you tell I’m writing this in the midst of said sleep-deprivation/six and a half hour flight/travel anxiety ridiculousness cocktail of mental… mentalness?

Where was I? Oh, that’s right. I wanted a second cup of tea. The tea-making apparatus was in the back of the plane and I was in the front (Life’s too short not to fly first-class), so first I had to waddle my ass down the aisle trying not to bump anybody’s shoulders with my hips, like a really awkward and anticlimactic game of pinball.

Upon arrival at the aft of the plane (Do plane’s have an aft, or is that just for ships?), I asked for a cup of tea. And tea was made.

There were three flight attendants chilling out back there, playing on their phones that I’m sure were on airplane mode. When I asked for milk and two sugars, one of them took the opportunity to say, in a comically cheery voice, “Two sugars! You only need one! One tastes the same as two!”

I kinda blinked a few times. I mean a) I’m pretty sure sugar’s sweetening effect is in fact cumulative, according to the volume of sugar applied and b) Did I just get SUGAR-POLICED for real?

I am one of those people who has been so indoctrinated with a terror of back-talking anyone involved in air travel that I would probably accept almost any indignity with a placid smile, for fear of otherwise next waking up in a cell in Guantanamo. Which is odd, because in most other areas of life I am super on board with challenging authority. I guess my ability to fly is more important to me than standing up for myself. I really need to work on that, Rosa Parks would be disappointed.

All of which is a real bummer. Because what I would liked to have said — with a big smile and a cheerful demeanor — is that the number of sugars I put in my tea is none of her fucking business and I’d suggest in the future she keep her commentary on the beverage choices of complete strangers to herself.

AND one sugar most assuredly does not taste the same as two. PLUS if the tea on this plane didn’t suck so badly it wouldn’t NEED any sugar at all. And ALSO: fuck you, lady. While I’m at it. Because I was feeling defensive the second I got on board this giant metal tube of supersonic claustrophobia in the first place.

Her apparent friendliness and corporate-enforced enthusiasm didn’t make me feel any better about what she said either — critical comments from strangers about your dietary choices are weird and unwelcome and unnecessary, no matter the context or the tone of voice they’re delivered in.

I was also thinking WHYYYY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME? Do I look like someone who is receptive to advice from strangers?

But instead I hemmed and hawed until her coworker, another perfectly perfect size zero with a face like stock photo, handed me my damn tea and then I waddled back to my seat juggling my searing cup of tea and my hips and thought about how dumb it is that people can make tiny little good-natured comments like that and still be so annoying, if not genuinely traumatizing — depending on their target.

When I got home, I emailed the airline’s customer service department and received a typical brushoff reply. Something along the lines of “We’re sorry you didn’t enjoy your experience, here at Blah, Blah Air, we take providing a comfortable environment for all of our guests very seriously and strive to uphold a culture of inclusivity in all that we do.”

I persisted in my attempt at holding the attendant accountable, which was responded to with what amounted to a bribe in the form of a discount on my next flight. Which is already paid for by my employer anyway. When pressed, I was told “the matter will be handled internally.” Which, as a veteran of HR, I know means, “please kindly fuck off now.”

Sure, this is an incredibly minor event as far as social justice issues go, but minor events add up quickly, and help to support a culture in which this sort of thing is considered OK. I still don’t understand why we think it’s ever any of our business to comment out loud on what someone else eats or drinks. This is why so many women feel so much shame every time they order food in public.

Can we stop it?

Can we at least work on it?