There are few things I love more than the idea of a spa day. A fluffy robe. Flavoured water in one of those giant glass jars that always looks fancier than it has any right to. Someone bringing me tea I didn’t have to make myself. That hushed spa music that makes everyone start speaking in library voices, like the walls might be listening. Several hours in which absolutely nobody expects me to answer an email, make a decision, or wear real pants. Sign me up.
Except, if you’ve ever moved through the world in a bigger body, you probably know there’s another conversation happening in your head before any of that bliss begins — the one that can make a plus size spa day feel like a logistics project before it feels like a treat. Will the robe fit? Can I actually get up onto the treatment table without it turning into a whole production, and will it be sturdy enough once I’m on it? Do I have to get naked? Is the change room going to involve one of those towels apparently designed for a six-year-old? Can I use the sauna comfortably? And if I want to know any of this ahead of time, how exactly do I ask without it sounding like I’m requesting a structural engineering report before booking a massage?
That’s what this is for.
And just to be clear, this isn’t a checklist. You don’t need to call a spa and ask seventeen questions before you’re allowed to relax. I’m going to tell you what’s typical, what you can expect, and what you might want to ask about if it’s something that would make your day more comfortable. Take what you need and leave the rest.
Now, the robe.
Almost every spa photo features a blissfully relaxed woman wandering around in a fluffy white robe that wraps approximately twice around her body.
Spa robes in real life can be a different story.
If wearing a robe is going to be part of your day, ask whether the spa carries robes in multiple sizes. Don’t ask whether their robes are “one size fits all,” because we already know how I feel about that particular bit of bullshit. There’s actually an industry term for this, and it’s “one size fits most.” Nobody consulted the “most” on that decision. [INTERNAL LINK: one size fits most — the post on that phrase once published]
Ask specifically what sizes are available.
You can simply say: “I’m coming for a spa day and wanted to check whether you have robes available in plus sizes. Can you tell me what sizes you carry?”
That’s it. No explanation required. You don’t need to give them your weight, apologise for asking, or launch into your personal history with bathrobes.
And if the answer is no? That’s not necessarily the end of the conversation. Say you’re plus-size, plainly, and ask what they usually offer guests when the standard robe doesn’t fit. Is there a larger size somewhere else in the spa or hotel? Can they give you the measurements of the largest robe they have so you can figure out whether it will work before you arrive? Can they make a note on your booking so you don’t have to start this conversation all over again when you get there? And if none of that gets you there, ask if you can bring your own.
You’re not asking for a favour. You’re asking a business what it can offer you, the same way you’d ask about check-in time or its cancellation policy. Confident. Matter-of-fact. Done.
Most spas won’t have an issue with you bringing your own robe, but it’s worth checking. Some facilities have rules about what can be worn in particular areas, and some require guests to wear the robes they provide. Better to know that while you’re still at home than while you’re standing in the change room.
For what it’s worth, some spas have already solved this without making anyone ask. At The Wellhouse at Blackberry Farm, an Allure beauty editor described walking into the locker room and being shown a wall of robes in different sizes. She picked the one she wanted and carried on with her day. No phone call. No awkward conversation. No let me check with my manager.
Imagine that.
And ultimately, if a spa hasn’t found a way to offer you a robe that fits, that’s useful information too. You get to decide whether that’s a place you want to spend your money.
The robe is supposed to make you comfortable. You don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable to fit the robe.
For what it’s worth, there are lots of spas already solving this without making anyone ask.
The spa at the Waldorf Astoria Chicago, which also won the 2025 World Spa Awards Winner – North America’s Best Hotel Spa, offers robes from XS all the way up to 5X.
Staying awhile?Check rooms + rates at the Waldorf Astoria Chicago →
At Ojai Valley Inn, a plus-size guest found 3X robes in every locker, with sizes up to 6X available if she asked.
Staying awhile?Check rooms + rates at Ojai Valley Inn →
And SoJo Spa Club in Edgewater, New Jersey, gets a specific shoutout from a plus-size guest not just for having a robe that fit, but because even the water-massage seats in the pool were wide enough for her body. And that’s especially worth noting because SoJo requires guests to wear the robes it provides while indoors. If you’re going to make the robe mandatory, having one that actually fits your guests feels like a pretty reasonable place to start.
None of this is particularly complicated. It’s just spas remembering that their guests come in more than one size.
Some of the hotel links above are affiliate links. If you book through one, Curvy as Fork may earn a commission at no additional cost to you.
Then there’s the table.
There are really two things you might be wondering here: how do I get onto it, and what is it actually like once I’m there?
Nobody photographs the getting-on part, but I have some experience with this one.
I was at a very small spa with a group of friends once, and there wasn’t a lot of room or privacy as we were getting ready for our treatments. Being naked in front of my friends was already wildly outside my comfort zone. Then I had to somehow get myself onto the treatment table while clutching the sheet, trying to cover all my bits and maintaining what I apparently believed was a necessary level of dignity.
At some point, while attempting this ridiculous manoeuvre, I actually yelled, “DON’T LOOK! DON’T LOOK!” And we all started screaming laughing.
It’s a very funny memory now. My friends couldn’t have cared less about seeing me naked. I was the one desperately trying to execute some sort of naked Cirque du Soleil routine to get onto a massage table without anyone seeing a boob.
This is not the ideal.
Normally, it’s much less eventful. Your therapist leaves the room, you undress to whatever level you’re comfortable with, get onto the table, and pull the sheet or blanket over yourself. By the time your therapist comes back, you’re tucked in and ready to go.
If you’re having a massage where you’ll spend time lying on your stomach, you’ll usually see a padded U-shaped face cradle attached to the end of the table. That’s where your face goes. Your forehead and cheeks rest on the padding, while the open centre gives your nose and mouth somewhere to be so you’re not lying face-down with your nose squished into a mattress for an hour. It may not be your most glamorous angle, but fortunately nobody is taking photos.
And honestly? Once you’re settled, massage tables are usually ridiculously comfortable. They’re padded, some are heated, and your therapist may use pillows, bolsters or rolled towels under your knees, ankles, shoulders or wherever else you need a little support. If something doesn’t feel right, say so. Moving a bolster two inches can be the difference between fine and ohhhh, there it is.
Treatment tables also come in different heights, and many professional spa tables are adjustable. If getting onto one is difficult for you, the therapist may be able to lower it, offer a step stool, or give you a hand if you want one. Nobody gets bonus spa points for mounting the massage table unassisted.
And if you’ve ever quietly wondered, Will this thing hold me?, here’s the reassuring part: professional massage tables are a whole lot sturdier than they look. Professional portable tables commonly have working weight capacities in the 500 to 800 pound range, while some stationary treatment tables are rated for 1,000 pounds or more.
For most people, that means the table is simply not something you need to worry about.
If you’re closer to the working-weight limit of some professional tables, or knowing the exact capacity would help you stop thinking about it and enjoy yourself, absolutely ask the spa. The number you want is the working weight capacity, which accounts for your body and the force being applied during the massage, rather than the much larger static-weight number you may see advertised for some tables.
“Could you tell me the working weight capacity of your treatment tables?”
It’s equipment information. You’re not confessing anything. And if the person answering doesn’t know right away, “Absolutely, let me find out for you” is a perfectly good answer.
Otherwise, get on the table, put your face in that funny little hole, get comfortable, and let somebody else do the work for a while.
That is, after all, why we’re here.
No.
You undress to whatever level feels comfortable to you. You can leave your underwear on. You can leave more than that on. You can take everything off. This is your massage, and there isn’t a correct amount of naked you’re supposed to be.
Draping does the rest. You’ll be covered with a sheet or towel throughout, and the therapist uncovers only the area they’re actively working on, so at any given moment most of your body is covered. You aren’t lying there completely exposed while a stranger circles you with massage oil. Which, frankly, is useful information to have before you arrive.
If you want to keep your underwear on, just do it. If you’re unsure about anything, ask before the treatment starts: “I’d like to keep my underwear on today. Is that okay?” You don’t need to explain why.
Some spas also offer disposable underwear for treatments involving oils, scrubs or wraps. One thing worth knowing: disposable spa underwear isn’t universally sized. Some spas stock multiple sizes, while others use the dreaded “one size fits most.” So if you’d like to use disposable underwear, add that to the questions you ask before you go: “Do you provide disposable underwear for the treatment, and what sizes do you have?”
Or, of course, wear your own. That’s what I usually do. I bring a spare pair with me so they can use as much oil or scrub as needed without either of us having to be precious about my underwear. Use the oil. Get enthusiastic with the scrub. I’ve got backup. There is absolutely no award for successfully squeezing yourself into a tiny paper thong in the name of wellness.
You can also request a therapist of a particular gender if that matters to your comfort. Mention it when you book rather than when you arrive. Most spas will accommodate this when they can, and if their schedule that day doesn’t allow it, you’d rather know while there’s still time to reschedule.
I have wondered about this one. A lot. In fact, I’ve pretty much asked every massage therapist I’ve had an appointment with some version of the same question: What’s it actually like working on a fat body? Is it harder? Is there anything different about it?
I realise this probably isn’t normal massage-table small talk, but apparently I’m willing to ask the questions.
And the answers have been remarkably uneventful.
They work on bodies. All kinds of bodies. Nobody I’ve asked has ever responded as though working on my body was something particularly difficult, unpleasant or noteworthy.
That’s not to say there are no differences. There can be. I’ve had therapists tell me that working on a larger body can mean changing their leverage or positioning, approaching pressure differently, or simply paying attention to their own ergonomics. A bolster or rolled towel can help with positioning. My arms might need a little more support.
But here’s the thing: they make adjustments for everybody. Someone has a bad knee. Someone can’t comfortably lie on their stomach. Someone has limited shoulder mobility. Someone is six-foot-four. Someone is five feet tall. Bodies require different things.
And I think that’s the part I wish I’d understood sooner. My fat body wasn’t the big event in the room. It was simply the body on the table that day, and a good therapist knows how to work with the body that’s actually in front of them.
So if this is one of the things quietly stopping you from booking the massage, I hope that helps.
You are there to have someone rub your shoulders until you temporarily forget you own a phone. Let’s keep our eye on the prize.
Change rooms are where someone apparently decided the human body requires approximately eleven inches of manoeuvring room, and the towels were sized accordingly.
And then there are those towels.
If you’ve ever been handed a spa towel and immediately realised its ambitions and your body’s circumference are not remotely aligned, you are not alone.
Sometimes, when a robe doesn’t fit, a spa’s answer is to hand you a towel or a sheet instead and call it sorted. Trading a robe that won’t close for a towel that won’t cover isn’t exactly an upgrade.
If this is something you know bothers you, bring a large towel you already know works. Your spa bag can contain whatever makes the day better for you. We’re not being graded on our ability to use every tiny towel provided by the establishment.
This is where photos become your friend.
If you’re going somewhere you’ll spend several hours moving between pools, saunas, hot tubs and relaxation areas, have a look at the space before you book. You’re not conducting an inspection. You’re getting a feel for the place you’re about to spend an afternoon half-naked in.
Look at how people actually move through the space. Are there steps or railings into the pools? What are the sauna benches like? Is there somewhere that looks genuinely inviting to flop down between treatments?
I love a spa with big loungers, deep chairs, benches and plenty of places to curl up between treatments — partly because they’re comfortable, and partly because lying around doing absolutely nothing is one of the few activities at which I am naturally gifted.
None of this is exclusively a plus-size issue, by the way. Bodies have knees, hips, balance issues, injuries, disabilities and varying levels of mobility. A space that works for more bodies is simply a better-designed space.
Hydrotherapy tubs and flotation tanks can sometimes have their own equipment limits, so if either is a big part of why you’re booking, that’s one of the few things I’d check specifically.
Sometimes you find a place that has clearly thought about different bodies without making a performance of it. Plus-size guests have praised SoJo Spa Club in Edgewater, New Jersey, for making parts of the spa experience that can sometimes feel awkward simply feel comfortable.
That’s what we’re looking for. Not a BODY POSITIVE banner over the hot tub. Just a space where you can actually use the things you came to use.
Even when a spa tells me they provide everything, I like having a few things of my own. A swimsuit I already feel good in [INTERNAL LINK: plus size swimwear guide]. Flip-flops or slides that are comfortable. A hair tie. My own skincare if my skin is fussy. A spare pair of underwear. A large towel if I’m unsure what they’ll provide. And, depending on the spa, a robe or cover-up that I know fits exactly the way I like it.
None of this needs to become a packing exercise. Bring the things that make you comfortable and leave the rest at home. [INTERNAL LINK: plus size travel packing guide]
And give yourself a little extra time when you arrive. Not because you need additional time to manage your body, but because rushing into a spa is a ridiculous way to begin something you’ve specifically paid money to relax during. Get your locker sorted. Swap the robe if you need to. Find the fruit water.
Then start doing considerably less.
You’re a customer finding out whether a business can accommodate you, the same as any other logistics question. No apology, no joke about your body first, no managing how the person on the other end feels about the fact that you have one.
Just ask the question.
“Do your robes come in plus sizes?”
“Could you tell me the working weight capacity of your treatment tables?”
“Do you have a larger towel?”
Small sentences. No apology.
And you don’t have to ask all of them. Ask about the things that would make a difference to your day. If you couldn’t care less about the robe, don’t ask about the robe. If you’re comfortably within the typical capacity of a professional treatment table, don’t turn yourself into an amateur structural engineer for the afternoon.
Sometimes you’ve done your research, asked what you needed to ask, and something still doesn’t work. Say so. Ask whether there’s another option. Maybe the staff comes up with something. Maybe you use what you brought. Maybe you skip one part of the experience. Maybe you decide this particular spa isn’t getting your money again.
That’s information about the spa. Not about whether you should have gone.
I know it would be lovely if none of us ever thought about any of this. If we simply booked the spa, arrived, put on the magically perfect robe, and floated off toward the eucalyptus steam room without once wondering whether something was going to fit, whether we’d be comfortable, or what the hell was about to happen.
We’re not quite there yet.
So until we are: ask what you need to ask, have a look at the photos, bring whatever makes the day easier. And then go. You don’t need to change your body before you get to enjoy taking care of it.
Get the massage. Sit in the sauna. Order the ridiculously expensive smoothie. Float around in the pool. Spend an unreasonable amount of time lying somewhere warm doing absolutely nothing.
