Not knowing me, you couldn’t possibly begin to understand the gravity of the situation. I am the least fitness-inclined, athletic person I know. My idea of sports so far have included six years of horse riding and a brief stint with roller-skating that ended with a broken elbow and a bruised pride.
But the thing that I am most proud of in terms of my gym-joining decision is that I decided to join a unisex gym. That’s right, there are boys there – and they totally get to see me when I’m dripping in sweat and wearing unflattering, saggy leggings, and breathing in a way I can only assume is akin to what women do during labour.
I considered joining a women-only gym. In fact, every time I’ve considered joining a gym, which granted, have been few and far between, I have only ever considered a single-sex establishment. Somehow, I felt that I would be less self-conscious, or more comfortable, or just generally more at ease in a female gym. My body consciousness has always seemed to me to be a product of the objectifying male gaze, whereas the sisterhood is warm and fuzzy and non-judgmental… right?
In the end, I chose the unisex gym where I go now because one of my good friends already went there, and I thought that the only thing that could possibly motivate me to go to the gym would be a buddy. I’m sure that a certain amount of the comfort I felt in going to the gym was derived from her being there, but the true test came when she was sick a few weeks into my membership, and I had to face the glistening interior of the gym alone.
I entered with some apprehension on my first day of exercising alone, and strode to the change rooms with my shoulders squared. Yet, almost immediately I realised that I wasn’t actually that self-conscious going in – and there were almost entirely guys working out, everywhere I looked. The thing was, though, that none of them were looking at me.
I think what it comes down to is the same realisation that all of society seems to be having collectively at the moment – often the biggest perpetrators of objectification of women, are women themselves. Don’t worry, I’m not about to make any sweeping generalizations! Not all women are judgmental, and certainly not all women could care less what anyone thinks of them. But there has always been an element of women being their own harshest critics in many aspects of life, and the gym is definitely one of them.
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I joined with my husband and we ended up having at first a great experience that turned ugly. Finding out that the male trainers were having a contest to see how much married slirt they could cot. My husband and i nearly split. However, my husband and i were educated by the program and will purchase our own equipment to use at home. Then if we require personal training, there are plenty of mobile trainers.
It is ONLY the fact I can perve on the hot muscle boys whilst spending an hour on the treadmill that gets me through it!