health

Women vs men at the gym.

already fitfitter

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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Guys at the gym, from my experience, seem to be absorbed in this blind world of working out, of sweat and adrenalin and pain. Women are not that different – it’s fairly hard to concentrate on anything in particular when you feel like your heart is about to be ripped out of your chest from sheer exhaustion – but I know that when I’m at the gym, I’m looking at other women, surreptitiously checking out their outfits, trying to keep up, noting their levels of energy and engagement.

Whether or not this is exemplary of the general attitude of women towards each other, which has often been criticised as being both judgmental and competitive, I know that for me, the people I most want to impress are my friends, my sisters, and the girls I admire. It’s always the people who you want to hold you in high regard, who seem to be the most critical of you. How much of that is a result of your own perspective, and how much of it is true is dependent on each individual’s experience, but the fact remains that the opinions we care about the most are the ones that are the most daunting to discover.

Let’s put it this way – if Brad Pitt saw me sweaty and disgusting after a session of aerobics, I might be a bit embarrassed. But if Emma Stone did, I’d probably squirm with humiliation, and be overcome with the desire to yell at her that I’m far more fashionable than my leggings would have her believe. I feel like she’d understand.

Zoya Patel is the editor of Lip Magazine. You can follow them online here.

Do you go to the gym? Does it matter to you who sees you there? Unisex or single sex?