I ordered a burger. Apparently, that came with advice about my weight. Really, I just came to swim.
From Sam:
Riley visited a resort advertising body acceptance, spent part of the afternoon swimming, and encountered a guest who had something to say about their lunch. Now Riley is halfway through a message to management. The difficult part isn’t remembering what was said.
From Riley:
I laughed at the joke.
That’s the part I keep replaying. Not because it was funny. It wasn’t. But if you’d been standing nearby, you might have thought we were all having a lovely time.
We were at the lunch counter. I’d ordered a burger and fries, and a man beside us looked at my order, then at me.
“Someone your size ought to leave a few fries for the rest of us.”
I laughed. One short, stupid laugh.
My friend Tess laughed too.
Then I had to stand there while the person behind the counter went to get ketchup.
Until that moment, I’d been having a good day.
Neither of us had visited this resort before. Its website said, “Every body welcome,” which I liked enough to send Tess a screenshot when we were deciding where to go.
I’m fat. That isn’t a confession or a request for you to find a nicer word. It’s relevant because this man apparently thought he was entitled to discuss my lunch.
We’d spent most of the morning in the pool. Tess had tried to get onto a floating lounger three times, each attempt ending with her back in the water and the lounger upside down.
“It’s defective,” she said.
“It’s floating.”
“Smugly.”
By the time she managed it, I was laughing hard enough that she told me to piss off and get her water bottle.
I did. She said thank you. We floated around, talked, and eventually got hungry.
I wasn’t thinking about my weight while I was swimming. I wasn’t making a point by ordering lunch. I wanted a burger.
After the man’s remark, I looked at Tess. She was still smiling, but it changed when she saw my face.
I said, “Well, that’s what I ordered.”
Not exactly a devastating response. It was what I had.
He leaned one arm on the counter.
“I’m only saying, swimming’s good for you. Keep that up, cut back on those, you’ll see a difference.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“No need to take it wrong. I’m trying to help.”
The ketchup arrived. I remember that very clearly. A little paper cup was being placed beside my food while I tried to decide whether to tell a stranger to fuck off.
“I came to swim and have lunch,” I said. “I don’t want advice about my weight.”
He lifted his hand.
“All right. It was a joke.”
“The fries were a joke. Then you kept talking.”
He shook his head and turned back toward the counter.
I picked up my tray too quickly. The ketchup tipped over, and I caught it against the burger wrapper. Tess reached for the napkins.
“Leave it,” I said.
She stopped.
Then I took a napkin myself, which felt petty even as I did it.
We found a table away from him. Tess sat opposite me and said, “I’m sorry.”
“You laughed.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“I thought you thought it was funny.”
“I laughed because I didn’t know what else to do.”
She looked down at her food.
“I didn’t realize until afterward. I’m sorry.”
I believed her. I was still hurt.
It had been maybe thirty seconds between the remark and my objection, but during those thirty seconds I’d heard my friend laughing with him. I couldn’t immediately make that feel different because she explained it.
She asked if I wanted her to say something to him.
“No. I already said something.”
“Okay.”
“And I don’t want you going over there and telling him I’m upset.”
She nodded.
We ate for a while without talking. I could hear him laughing at another table. I don’t know what about. I kept listening anyway.
Tess asked whether I wanted to leave.
I said I wanted to finish my lunch.
That came out sharper than it needed to. She hadn’t told me not to eat it.
Afterward, I went back toward the counter and asked a staff member if there was someone I could speak to about a guest’s comment. They asked what had happened.
I repeated the fries remark. Saying “someone your size” out loud to another person was worse than I expected. Then I explained the advice that followed and said I’d asked him to stop.
The staff member looked toward the tables.
“Which guest?”
I pointed him out.
They said, “I’m sorry. If you’d rather sit farther away, there are tables around the other side.”
“I’ve already moved.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Can someone tell him not to comment on people’s weight?”
“Did he say anything else after you asked him to stop?”
“No.”
They nodded.
“If he bothers you again, come and get one of us straightaway.”
I said okay.
I wish I hadn’t, because it wasn’t okay. But I’d just repeated the whole thing; people were waiting at the counter, and I wanted to stop standing there.
I don’t know whether that staff member told anyone afterward. I didn’t ask for their name. I didn’t ask whether they were recording the complaint.
I went back to Tess and said, “Apparently I can sit somewhere else.”
She moved her bag off the chair beside her so I could sit down.
I told her the rest of the conversation. She listened without trying to fix it this time.
We did go back into the pool.
I want to include that because I can already imagine someone deciding the day couldn’t have been that bad if I stayed.
I’d paid to be there. I liked the pool. I didn’t want our last hour to be spent driving home while I explained how angry I was.
For a while, swimming helped. Then I saw the man walking past the pool and lost track of what Tess was saying.
He didn’t approach us. Nothing else happened.
I watched until he’d gone, then asked her to repeat herself.
Later, while we were packing up, she apologized again.
I told her I knew she hadn’t meant it.
She started to say something else, then stopped and zipped her bag.
I was grateful she stopped. I didn’t have a reassuring answer ready for her.
Now I’m trying to decide whether to contact management.
I don’t want a reply telling me I’m beautiful. I don’t want swimming advice or an argument about whether he assessed my lunch correctly. And I don’t need Tess to spend the next month proving she likes me.
I want to know what happens when someone reports this kind of shit at a place that has “Every body welcome” on its website.
Should I ask management to speak to him? Tell staff how to handle a complaint. Explain whether offering another table is the whole response.
I’m not asking them to promise that nobody will ever say something cruel. I am asking whether I have to wait for him to do it again before they’ll address it.
My message includes the exact words he used, what I said in response, and what the staff member told me.
Underneath that, I’ve typed, “Please let me know what you will do.”
Next: When Body Confidence Slips. Coming November 12.
