A recent article in Stylist hit me with a thump, and it’s time to say that I’m sincerely sorry. The publication posted a “beginners guide to exercise” and I read it shaking my head at the realisation of how wrong some advice I’ve previously shared is. The item I’m specifically referencing is at the bottom of the page: “get a gym kit that makes you feel confident”.
I’m not going to roast the entire section. The final paragraph is better – it hammers home the point that forgetting items of kit is an avoidable last-minute hitch (this from the person who trained without socks on recently – and I’m a pro!), and I am a huge advocate for packing your bag the night before, and triple checking that you have what you need (and, in some cases, things which are either a maybe or a backup! Period products are a great example of this – I’ve always got my preferred items with me, and am happy to pass one on if you’re caught short).
But the reductive suggestion that it’s essential to buy new leggings in order to get started is something that I’m now going to move away from. Yes, there are some sports which require specialist kit, and for one reason or another, it’s not always possible to borrow those items (helmets and mouthguards are good examples here), but everyday items that can easily be found in your wardrobe already really will do until you’re ready or willing to invest.
Time for an apology
I’ve been guilty of making similar suggestions in the past, but it took reading it in another person’s words for me to recognise how patronising and reductive it is to insist that purchasing shiny new gym clothes will help inspire you to exercise.
I’m sorry that it took this for me to realise how infantile the suggestion is. How facetious. As though new leggings or trainers are the magic bullet we were all waiting for, the cape our hero self has yet to don, allowing us to arrive on the gym floor in a flourish of stretchy fabric to save ourselves from the embarrassment of shit reps.
I’m sorry that this is widely regarded as acceptable advice. I’m sorry as your problems, as genuine, serious and crippling as they are, have been reduced to the suggestion that a shopping spree will fix them.
It’s about what’s underneath
Because, truthfully, clothes aren’t what’s stopping you. Yes, access to appropriate kit is a problem, particularly for certain demographics. But it’s far from the main one. What’s holding you back won’t disappear if the Lululemon fairy godmother turned up to bestow you with glittery leggings and boop your Micra into a Tesla chauffeured by a personal trainer who gifts you with a NutriBullet and some resistance bands.
You’re instead scared of seeing your sweaty reflection, of looking like a twat for not knowing how to use the thingy, of injuring yourself doing a warm up, and of BCAA Brian cutting you up on your way to the water fountain.
Now for the good news
But, Gymderella, there is a fairy godmother. She’s waiting for you with open ears and the knowledge to guide you. She’ll answer all of your questions. She’ll appear when you agree to turn up. She’ll show you her world and it’ll become yours too.
How do I know all of this? Because I’m her. And I once was you – wondering where the fuck I’d buy trainers which weren’t men’s ones to fit my size nine flippers, and how little I could get away with scraping together for a pair of leggings, terrified of being given a dumbbell I proved incapable of lifting, or trapping my fingers in the mechanism of a complicated machine.
There’s only one question left to answer: are you ready to go to the ball?