When you travel in a plus-size body, especially with a medical device, you have to account for factors many travelers never think twice about.
Will the plane seat fit you comfortably? Will there be armrests that pinch, seatbelts that do not buckle, or stares when you ask for an extender? What about navigating public bathrooms with insulin pumps or catheters? How will the TSA handle your medical device? Will your destination have the supplies you need?
These are not questions of vanity. They’re about access, safety, and dignity.
Inclusive travel means making space — literal and cultural — for bodies of all shapes and needs. And it means understanding that travel doesn’t become less valid or adventurous just because someone needs a little more room, support, or privacy.
Shereen’s Story – Lessons on Traveling in Comfort and with Confidence
When I first started traveling, I didn’t think much about what it meant to move through the world in a plus-size body. Airplane seats were uncomfortable, hotel bathrooms were tiny, and walking on uneven ground sometimes made my hip ache — but I told myself that was just part of the travel deal. You squeeze in, you make do, and you focus on the adventure.
But in my late 40s and early 50s, that started to shift. As my body changed and I began traveling with medical devices — a CPAP and sometimes a cane — the little discomforts I used to ignore became harder to brush off. What I’d chalked up as “travel fatigue” or “airport chaos” was actually my body quietly asking for more support than I’d been giving it.
I still think about one long-haul flight where everything hit at once: cramped aisles, a surprise period, and a bathroom so small I felt like I needed a geometry degree to use it. I had packed well (my travel bidet, wet wipes, all the Girl Scout preparedness) but I realized I couldn’t keep white-knuckling my way through travel just to avoid being “in the way.”
Now, I travel with intention. I ask for a seatbelt extender the second I board, no apologies. I choose window seats for that extra inch of space between me and the world. I check SeatGuru (no longer operational-SeatMaps.com is a good alternative) before booking. I keep essentials where I can actually reach them — leggings with real pockets, a scarf with a hidden zipper, my trusty yarner bag clipped to the tray table so nothing disappears under the seat.
And I think more carefully about where I stay. A reachable outlet for my CPAP, a bathroom that isn’t an Olympic sport, a bedside table that can hold more than a single water glass — these small details add up.
More than anything, I’ve learned to travel with people who respect my pace. On some of my favorite trips, my companions offered help when I needed it and trusted me when I said I was fine. No judgment, no pressure. Just ease.
Being plus-size on the road isn’t about shrinking yourself or strategizing your way through shame. It’s about traveling with awareness instead of apology, preparation instead of panic. And somewhere along the way, that shift made travel feel not just doable — but more joyful, more grounded, and far more aligned with the body I’m actually in.