Over the last few days I have been reading, with a growing sense of extreme sympathy, my housemate's account of having spent a few days at the New You Boot Camp.
Zara is a beauty writer, and thus she gets better freebies than I do (I'm a classical music writer). She gets free haircuts, more make up than she'll ever use, swanky spa treatments, Rapunzel-style hair extensions, and until now I've been quite envious. Not any more.
Zara has just spent a week somewhere that explicitly describes itself as a "military-style weight-loss camp" on a strictly-enforced diet, surrounded by other women who are also on a strictly-enforced diet. When I first heard that she was doing some sort of fitness camp I thought it sounded quite fun - I'm quite the fitness freak myself. But the more I've read her diary, the more horrified I've been.
Lots of exercise? Bring it on.
Healthy food? Yum.
Healthy food in very small portions? Hehe. That's funny. Where's the rest of my food?
5am starts? Eeeep...
No caffeine? WHAT???
5am starts with no caffeine? Oh HELL no!
Swimming in freezing cold water? I wanted my mummy just from reading about that.
It was the swimming in freezing cold water bit that made me realise that I was never, EVER doing ANYTHING like this, no matter how desperate I am to drop a dress size. It also made me wonder why on earth any woman would pay to have some burly guy in an army uniform yell at her and drag her out of bed at 5am to go for a dip in the North Sea in November. Was it perhaps some sort of self-punishment for not being thin? Over tea last night she told me: "I think a lot of it's to do with control. A lot of women have serious issues with food and exercise, and somewhere like this, all of the control is taken away from you. I think a lot of the women are paying for someone else to take responsibility as much as anything else."
Interesting.
Zara is now back from the camp and very much alive, although she doesn't look any thinner...but then again, she was very slim in the first place. I have gained a lot of respect for her, and also an appreciation of the fact that I get sent to concerts for work rather than boot camps.
Showing posts with label gym. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gym. Show all posts
Friday, 21 November 2008
Sunday, 3 February 2008
Fight like a girl
Lately I've been thinking about how great it is to be a sporty woman. I think getting seriously involved with a sport is one of the most empowering things a woman can do.
Three and a half years ago now I took up taekwondo, a Korean martial art based on karate. I'd always wanted to do martial arts, but my parents had vetoed it when I was a child on the grounds of my propensity for getting into fights at school (probably a wise decision I have to admit). At 21, I finally got round to donning some "angry white pyjamas" to learn how to kick ass. I'd acquired enough disposable income to join a gym, but it cost about the same to join a taekwondo club instead, and the rest is history. I'm now just about to take my black belt grading. I'm a much more confident person in general than I was at 21 for a variety of reasons, but taekwondo has probably been the biggest influence in terms of having more confidence in my body.
As women we are bombarded with pressure from the media, from our peers, sometimes from men, to see our bodies as wayward things that must be kept in check, that mustn't be fed too much, that exist largely if not solely for aesthetic purposes, and that life will not be worth living if we gain a few pounds. A woman's body exists to be beautiful, not athletic, and beautiful according to pretty strict guidelines at that. How we feel about our bodies, and often consequently our self-esteem, is dictated by a cruel lottery of genetics. And if we have drawn a poor or even a not-quite-perfect set of numbers in the genetics lottery, we are to spend our lives striving to improve our bodies, not allowing ourselves to be truly happy or relaxed until we achieve perfection. It is of course much more important that we are attractive than healthy or fit.
I know that people go to the gym to "keep fit", but for a lot of women, "keeping fit" is synonymous with "keeping thin", and not just because slimness is for most people a by-product of fitness. Virtually every woman I know who has a gym membership sweats it out on a treadmill specifically in order to get or stay thin, and good luck to them for not achieving that just by starving themselves, but it concerns me that women by and large are more concerned with how their body looks than with what it can do.
If you do a sport rather than just going to the gym, you are doing physical activity for a purpose other than just to look good. Being sporty gives you the same physical benefits of going to the gym, but with none of the weight obsession, wall-to-wall mirrors, lycra, posing, sleazy guys and other assorted annoyances that gyms are associated with. You will get fit, and yes, you will get thin if being thin is the state that your body is destined to adopt when it is at the peak of fitness, but you will do so by focusing on having fun and getting good at something instead of on how your body looks. Much more enjoyable and massively more empowering.
When you are training or competing in an actual sport, nobody gives a flying fuck how your body looks. When I'm beating the crap out of a focus pad, demonstrating a pattern for some beginners, kicking a 6ft man in the head, or just sitting around comparing bruises after class, it is the only time I feel that nobody, absolutely nobody, cares about how my body looks.
At my taekwondo club, it is not at all unusual to find men discussing their diets. It's a given that everybody will be watching what they eat to a certain extent, making sure that they have a healthy diet giving them the required energy and nutrients to perform at their best. Being sporty makes it acceptable for men to take an interest in healthy eating. And it makes it acceptable for women to eat proper, substantial food that gives them the energy they need.
A while ago, I can't remember when, I was getting into the shower when I caught sight of myself in the mirror and suddenly realised that I had no cellulite. Before taking up taekwondo I'd had some - not a huge amount, but quite a lot for a 20-year-old. I hadn't been massively distressed about it, but I hadn't liked it either. I'd occasionally succumbed to that masochistic practice of standing in one's underwear in front of a full-length mirror and thinking, Yuk. And now, after a couple of years of regular exercise, it had gone. But it wasn't the fact that it had disappeared that I saw as significant - it was the fact that I hadn't even noticed its disappearance. At some point, I'd stopped caring.
These days, if I find myself in front of a full-length mirror, instead of appraising how my body looks, I throw a few kicks and admire my ninja skillz (fellow martial artists, don't try and tell me you've never done this). If I'd spent the last four years at the gym instead of in the dojang I would be just as fit, but I wouldn't be able to do a pretty mean 540 degree turning kick, I wouldn't have a shelf full of trophies and medals, and I'd still be examining my thighs for cellulite. If I was ever in danger of getting involved with the mad body beautiful culture that plagues young women, taekwondo saved me from it. I am no longer a slave to my body - my body is a slave to me.
Sorry to pontificate but I really think if there's one piece of advice I can offer to every woman it's to find a sport you enjoy and do it. What physical activities did you enjoy as a child? What have you always wanted to try? It's not often that women are encouraged to take up an actual sport as opposed to simply squeezing themselves into pink lycra and going to spinning classes in order to keep their lardy bits in check, and I think that this is a great shame. There is a lot of untapped female sporting talent out there, and a lot of women who are missing out on getting fit in a massively enjoyable manner. There are some who would say that running around like a mad thing and getting sweaty and dishevelled is unfeminine, but to hell with them. Taking up a sport allows you to reclaim your body and to use it to its true potential.
Three and a half years ago now I took up taekwondo, a Korean martial art based on karate. I'd always wanted to do martial arts, but my parents had vetoed it when I was a child on the grounds of my propensity for getting into fights at school (probably a wise decision I have to admit). At 21, I finally got round to donning some "angry white pyjamas" to learn how to kick ass. I'd acquired enough disposable income to join a gym, but it cost about the same to join a taekwondo club instead, and the rest is history. I'm now just about to take my black belt grading. I'm a much more confident person in general than I was at 21 for a variety of reasons, but taekwondo has probably been the biggest influence in terms of having more confidence in my body.
As women we are bombarded with pressure from the media, from our peers, sometimes from men, to see our bodies as wayward things that must be kept in check, that mustn't be fed too much, that exist largely if not solely for aesthetic purposes, and that life will not be worth living if we gain a few pounds. A woman's body exists to be beautiful, not athletic, and beautiful according to pretty strict guidelines at that. How we feel about our bodies, and often consequently our self-esteem, is dictated by a cruel lottery of genetics. And if we have drawn a poor or even a not-quite-perfect set of numbers in the genetics lottery, we are to spend our lives striving to improve our bodies, not allowing ourselves to be truly happy or relaxed until we achieve perfection. It is of course much more important that we are attractive than healthy or fit.
I know that people go to the gym to "keep fit", but for a lot of women, "keeping fit" is synonymous with "keeping thin", and not just because slimness is for most people a by-product of fitness. Virtually every woman I know who has a gym membership sweats it out on a treadmill specifically in order to get or stay thin, and good luck to them for not achieving that just by starving themselves, but it concerns me that women by and large are more concerned with how their body looks than with what it can do.
If you do a sport rather than just going to the gym, you are doing physical activity for a purpose other than just to look good. Being sporty gives you the same physical benefits of going to the gym, but with none of the weight obsession, wall-to-wall mirrors, lycra, posing, sleazy guys and other assorted annoyances that gyms are associated with. You will get fit, and yes, you will get thin if being thin is the state that your body is destined to adopt when it is at the peak of fitness, but you will do so by focusing on having fun and getting good at something instead of on how your body looks. Much more enjoyable and massively more empowering.
When you are training or competing in an actual sport, nobody gives a flying fuck how your body looks. When I'm beating the crap out of a focus pad, demonstrating a pattern for some beginners, kicking a 6ft man in the head, or just sitting around comparing bruises after class, it is the only time I feel that nobody, absolutely nobody, cares about how my body looks.
At my taekwondo club, it is not at all unusual to find men discussing their diets. It's a given that everybody will be watching what they eat to a certain extent, making sure that they have a healthy diet giving them the required energy and nutrients to perform at their best. Being sporty makes it acceptable for men to take an interest in healthy eating. And it makes it acceptable for women to eat proper, substantial food that gives them the energy they need.
A while ago, I can't remember when, I was getting into the shower when I caught sight of myself in the mirror and suddenly realised that I had no cellulite. Before taking up taekwondo I'd had some - not a huge amount, but quite a lot for a 20-year-old. I hadn't been massively distressed about it, but I hadn't liked it either. I'd occasionally succumbed to that masochistic practice of standing in one's underwear in front of a full-length mirror and thinking, Yuk. And now, after a couple of years of regular exercise, it had gone. But it wasn't the fact that it had disappeared that I saw as significant - it was the fact that I hadn't even noticed its disappearance. At some point, I'd stopped caring.
These days, if I find myself in front of a full-length mirror, instead of appraising how my body looks, I throw a few kicks and admire my ninja skillz (fellow martial artists, don't try and tell me you've never done this). If I'd spent the last four years at the gym instead of in the dojang I would be just as fit, but I wouldn't be able to do a pretty mean 540 degree turning kick, I wouldn't have a shelf full of trophies and medals, and I'd still be examining my thighs for cellulite. If I was ever in danger of getting involved with the mad body beautiful culture that plagues young women, taekwondo saved me from it. I am no longer a slave to my body - my body is a slave to me.
Sorry to pontificate but I really think if there's one piece of advice I can offer to every woman it's to find a sport you enjoy and do it. What physical activities did you enjoy as a child? What have you always wanted to try? It's not often that women are encouraged to take up an actual sport as opposed to simply squeezing themselves into pink lycra and going to spinning classes in order to keep their lardy bits in check, and I think that this is a great shame. There is a lot of untapped female sporting talent out there, and a lot of women who are missing out on getting fit in a massively enjoyable manner. There are some who would say that running around like a mad thing and getting sweaty and dishevelled is unfeminine, but to hell with them. Taking up a sport allows you to reclaim your body and to use it to its true potential.
Monday, 25 June 2007
Consider me pissed off
I was at the gym earlier this evening after work. You know I'm not entirely comfortable with gym culture in general, but this evening was positively hellish.
I'd just got myself installed on a cross-trainer when one of the sleazy men who works there came up to me and asked if I might be interested in joining in with a free step class. I hesitated for two reasons. Firstly because I am a serious sportsperson, I come to the gym to do hardcore interval training and suspected that the class would be too easy for me, and secondly because the image I have of step aerobics is of bitchy women in leotards bopping around to shit music whilst visualising their thighs shrinking. But then I thought, what the hell, I should try anything once, and hey, it's free.
I began to feel a little apprehensive however as I observed Sleazy Gym Boy collecting more recruits. He was only inviting women. And all the women he was inviting were young, attractive and wearing lycra.
"Is this a women only class?" I asked him.
"No, anyone can join in!" he breezed.
"So why are you only asking women?"
He mumbled something incomprehensible before enthusiastically introducing me to the instructor (a young, attractive woman in lycra).
At this point, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was a free class, probably a sample for something they were hoping to get clients to pay for later. Thus it made sense to target a specfic demographic, and frankly given my own prejudices about step aerobics I didn't blame him for going after gym bunnies in lycra.
The studio at my gym has a viewing area at the top, where anybody can watch classes in progress. In order to get from the changing rooms to the gym one must walk both through this viewing gallery, and past the entrance of the studio. It's not a quiet, private, anonymous location at all. So when the class started I felt pretty self-conscious about the fact that all of the male staff were hanging around by the door watching us. Soon I realised why. They knew what was coming. They knew that the choreography for this step class was verging on pornographic, with the instructor getting us to stick out our asses like strippers or lapdancers. They knew that in that overheated dance studio, pretty soon they'd have ten sweaty, lycra-clad twentysomethings gyrating for them. They all nodded approvingly at us as we shook our nubile tushes. We also attracted a plethora of men in the gallery above, who had a prime view of our behinds. One charming gentleman took photos with his camera phone. Basically, we spent half an hour putting on a show for them.
I don't think for one moment that the gym deliberately organised this class in order to produce soft pornography, but that is what happened. I was disgusted. I wouldn't have minded the cheesy quasi-pornographic choreography at all had we not had a male audience. It would have just been a bit of fun had it been in a private location, but with thirty slack-jawed pairs of eyes on our behinds I felt as if I was starring in a Lynx commercial, in which the heroic gym instructor douses himself in Lynx and coerces a bunch of hot, scantily-clad babes into dancing for all his mates. I was insulted - do I really look that cheap? I find it more comfortable working out in a dri-fit top - does this say something about my sexual availability? To some people it does.
I'm cancelling my membership tomorrow. I know it would be an enlightened statement to walk into that gym in my lycra top with my head held high, but the fact is that since my taekwondo instructor is starting another club near me I can now train five times a week, thus making the gym redundant. I won't miss it one bit.
I'd just got myself installed on a cross-trainer when one of the sleazy men who works there came up to me and asked if I might be interested in joining in with a free step class. I hesitated for two reasons. Firstly because I am a serious sportsperson, I come to the gym to do hardcore interval training and suspected that the class would be too easy for me, and secondly because the image I have of step aerobics is of bitchy women in leotards bopping around to shit music whilst visualising their thighs shrinking. But then I thought, what the hell, I should try anything once, and hey, it's free.
I began to feel a little apprehensive however as I observed Sleazy Gym Boy collecting more recruits. He was only inviting women. And all the women he was inviting were young, attractive and wearing lycra.
"Is this a women only class?" I asked him.
"No, anyone can join in!" he breezed.
"So why are you only asking women?"
He mumbled something incomprehensible before enthusiastically introducing me to the instructor (a young, attractive woman in lycra).
At this point, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was a free class, probably a sample for something they were hoping to get clients to pay for later. Thus it made sense to target a specfic demographic, and frankly given my own prejudices about step aerobics I didn't blame him for going after gym bunnies in lycra.
The studio at my gym has a viewing area at the top, where anybody can watch classes in progress. In order to get from the changing rooms to the gym one must walk both through this viewing gallery, and past the entrance of the studio. It's not a quiet, private, anonymous location at all. So when the class started I felt pretty self-conscious about the fact that all of the male staff were hanging around by the door watching us. Soon I realised why. They knew what was coming. They knew that the choreography for this step class was verging on pornographic, with the instructor getting us to stick out our asses like strippers or lapdancers. They knew that in that overheated dance studio, pretty soon they'd have ten sweaty, lycra-clad twentysomethings gyrating for them. They all nodded approvingly at us as we shook our nubile tushes. We also attracted a plethora of men in the gallery above, who had a prime view of our behinds. One charming gentleman took photos with his camera phone. Basically, we spent half an hour putting on a show for them.
I don't think for one moment that the gym deliberately organised this class in order to produce soft pornography, but that is what happened. I was disgusted. I wouldn't have minded the cheesy quasi-pornographic choreography at all had we not had a male audience. It would have just been a bit of fun had it been in a private location, but with thirty slack-jawed pairs of eyes on our behinds I felt as if I was starring in a Lynx commercial, in which the heroic gym instructor douses himself in Lynx and coerces a bunch of hot, scantily-clad babes into dancing for all his mates. I was insulted - do I really look that cheap? I find it more comfortable working out in a dri-fit top - does this say something about my sexual availability? To some people it does.
I'm cancelling my membership tomorrow. I know it would be an enlightened statement to walk into that gym in my lycra top with my head held high, but the fact is that since my taekwondo instructor is starting another club near me I can now train five times a week, thus making the gym redundant. I won't miss it one bit.
Sunday, 18 March 2007
The path to enlightenment...
My impending homelessness means that I've been looking on Moveflat a lot recently. I've decided I quite like the idea of living in a girls-only flat - I've got this idea in my head that it would just be like one big long sleepover, hanging around in shortie pyjamas, watching Clueless and talking about boys. However, the reality even of what the ads themselves look like is enough to scare me witless.
"Looking for a clean and tidy flatmate"
"Looking for someone clean and tidy"
"Must be clean and tidy"
I guess that wouldn't be me then. However, the other thing I've noticed about all these girls' ads is rather more sinister:
Flatshare interests: Cooking, gym, yoga
Flatshare interests: Fashion, reading, yoga
Flatshare interests: Yoga
What is it with the yoga? When Geri Halliwell shrunk to miniscule proportions a few years ago, advocating yoga has her secret without mentioning the fact that she had probably also been living on celery which might have had something to do with it, it seems as if most of the female population bitched about how skinny she was and how awful she looked whilst simultaneously signing up for as many yoga classes as they could fit into their lives. And judging by moveflat, this fad is not on the wane.
Maybe my knowledge of anatomy and metabolism isn't that hot, but where I come from, in order for exercise to have any benefits in terms of increasing fitness and burning calories, it has to raise your heart rate above resting level. I'm not saying that yoga isn't good for you. Of course increasing flexibility can't be a bad thing. But helping you lose weight? Not unless the thought of turning up at the gym with cellulite hanging out of your pink lycra yoga outfit terrifies you into giving up pork pies.
So, sitting in one position for hours will make you thin? Well, I spent a good two hours in the "Slob Position" watching Dancing on Ice last night, and it's most gratifying to know that I might have burned a few thousand calories whilst I was at it. I felt so at one with the universe whilst watching Kyran Bracken fall on his arse, so enlightened witnessing Philip Schofield's nauseating interview techniques ("So, did you EVER dream that you'd be here, in the final?" I always hope one of them says, "YES, actually I did think I'd make it to the final" but they never do).
I did do a yoga class once. It was in my first year of music college and it was the only extra-curricular activity available, so I jumped at the chance to try it out. I have to say, it was the most putridly dull hour of my life. Everyone else was talking about how relaxed and enlightened they were feeling afterwards - I was just wishing I'd gone to the pub instead, at least I would have got some exercise lifting my non-slimline G&T to my mouth. Perhaps it might have been more scintillating if they'd had TV screens showing Dancing on Ice
Girls, yoga will not make you thin. If you happen to have the superhuman attention span required to enjoy it, good for you. But if you want to lose weight, try running, or cycling, or swimming, or kickboxing, or maybe even ice skating... Or you could just go to the pub instead.
"Looking for a clean and tidy flatmate"
"Looking for someone clean and tidy"
"Must be clean and tidy"
I guess that wouldn't be me then. However, the other thing I've noticed about all these girls' ads is rather more sinister:
Flatshare interests: Cooking, gym, yoga
Flatshare interests: Fashion, reading, yoga
Flatshare interests: Yoga
What is it with the yoga? When Geri Halliwell shrunk to miniscule proportions a few years ago, advocating yoga has her secret without mentioning the fact that she had probably also been living on celery which might have had something to do with it, it seems as if most of the female population bitched about how skinny she was and how awful she looked whilst simultaneously signing up for as many yoga classes as they could fit into their lives. And judging by moveflat, this fad is not on the wane.
Maybe my knowledge of anatomy and metabolism isn't that hot, but where I come from, in order for exercise to have any benefits in terms of increasing fitness and burning calories, it has to raise your heart rate above resting level. I'm not saying that yoga isn't good for you. Of course increasing flexibility can't be a bad thing. But helping you lose weight? Not unless the thought of turning up at the gym with cellulite hanging out of your pink lycra yoga outfit terrifies you into giving up pork pies.
So, sitting in one position for hours will make you thin? Well, I spent a good two hours in the "Slob Position" watching Dancing on Ice last night, and it's most gratifying to know that I might have burned a few thousand calories whilst I was at it. I felt so at one with the universe whilst watching Kyran Bracken fall on his arse, so enlightened witnessing Philip Schofield's nauseating interview techniques ("So, did you EVER dream that you'd be here, in the final?" I always hope one of them says, "YES, actually I did think I'd make it to the final" but they never do).
I did do a yoga class once. It was in my first year of music college and it was the only extra-curricular activity available, so I jumped at the chance to try it out. I have to say, it was the most putridly dull hour of my life. Everyone else was talking about how relaxed and enlightened they were feeling afterwards - I was just wishing I'd gone to the pub instead, at least I would have got some exercise lifting my non-slimline G&T to my mouth. Perhaps it might have been more scintillating if they'd had TV screens showing Dancing on Ice
Girls, yoga will not make you thin. If you happen to have the superhuman attention span required to enjoy it, good for you. But if you want to lose weight, try running, or cycling, or swimming, or kickboxing, or maybe even ice skating... Or you could just go to the pub instead.
Monday, 12 March 2007
Only the ball should bounce
Sportswear pisses me off. Specifically, it pisses me off because of its unavailability. But all sports shops have women's sections, I hear you cry! All labels provide women's clothing! Well, it depends on your definition of "sports" and what your requirements are. Women's sportswear generally consists of silly little lycra numbers available in a size 8-14 - perfect for gym bunnies on macrobiotic diets who do yoga classes, chug vile probiotic yoghurt drinks and shun carbs; not so perfect for someone who competes in martial arts on a national level, who is disinterested in shaking her booty on a cross-trainer and whose enormous jugs need support.
Despite exhaustive searching, I have never found a sports bra in my size. According to Nike (whose lovely dri-fit tops I have to admit I am a bit of a fan of, so sue me) a woman should be able to exercise in a "supportive" top consisting of a rubber band underneath her bust and non-adjustable straps. That's perfect if you're 5ft8 and a 34A. But what if you're 5ft1 and a 30F? Well, Berlei finally saw the gap in the market for big sports bras a few years ago and started manufacturing their range up to a G-cup. They ran a memorable billboard campaign featuring Anna Kournikova and the slogan "Only the Ball Should Bounce". Thanks for reminding me how important it is to look after my boobs, but your bras still don't fit me. For starters, their back sizes start at a 32, but more importantly, the straps simply don't adjust short enough. I'd have to be at least four inches taller to wear a Berlei bra. Apparently, only tall women require sports bras. Here is what I've had to do to get a suitable sports bra: Buy one of these which comes in a suitable size and then take it here for the straps to be altered. Total cost per bra = £55. Boy is being short with big jugs an expensive business.
Women's trainers are not designed for running. If you go into a sports shop to buy a pair of trainers the first thing you'll notice is that the women's section is miniscule. The next thing you'll notice is that there are very few styles that are actually suitable for any kind of sport, as opposed to being simply fashion accessories. The next thing you'll notice after that is that if like me you're fortunate enough to be a size 5 or below, you're better off shopping in the boys' section - no VAT and they're actually designed for running in! Oh, and by the way, girls' trainers don't exist AT ALL. You can get cute things in pink for toddlers, but once your little girl is past the age of about eight, good luck finding her anything that isn't obviously designed for boys. No wonder teenage girls tend to lose interest in sport - they haven't anything to wear for it.
The cut of women's sportswear is not at all suitable for an athletic physique. I trailed round several sports shops last autumn to try and find a nice, comfortable yet stylish hoodie to go running in, and found that I could barely fit my arms into my usual size - the sleeves were cut for a skinny model rather than for an athlete. I had to go two sizes larger before I could move my arms comfortably, meaning that it was far too big on my comparatively slim torso. It's not as if my biceps are freakishly enormous - I'm a martial artist, not a weightlifter. Further evidence that the most strenuous exercise that sportswear companies think us girls are capable of is pilates. I never did buy a hoodie.
So, a sporty woman can look forward to chafing from ill-fitting clothing; droopy, stretchmarked breasts from ill-fitting bras; and joint and back problems from dodgy trainers. Great! It's enough to make anyone hang up their sweatpants in favour of a date with a large tub of Ben & Jerrys.
In short, women's sportsgear is all well and good if all you want from your hi-performance lycra mesh dri-fit hi-tech overpriced little spandex outfit is simply something to pose in which shows off your abs to full effect. But if you want something that's actually suitable for doing sports in, good luck finding it.
Despite exhaustive searching, I have never found a sports bra in my size. According to Nike (whose lovely dri-fit tops I have to admit I am a bit of a fan of, so sue me) a woman should be able to exercise in a "supportive" top consisting of a rubber band underneath her bust and non-adjustable straps. That's perfect if you're 5ft8 and a 34A. But what if you're 5ft1 and a 30F? Well, Berlei finally saw the gap in the market for big sports bras a few years ago and started manufacturing their range up to a G-cup. They ran a memorable billboard campaign featuring Anna Kournikova and the slogan "Only the Ball Should Bounce". Thanks for reminding me how important it is to look after my boobs, but your bras still don't fit me. For starters, their back sizes start at a 32, but more importantly, the straps simply don't adjust short enough. I'd have to be at least four inches taller to wear a Berlei bra. Apparently, only tall women require sports bras. Here is what I've had to do to get a suitable sports bra: Buy one of these which comes in a suitable size and then take it here for the straps to be altered. Total cost per bra = £55. Boy is being short with big jugs an expensive business.
Women's trainers are not designed for running. If you go into a sports shop to buy a pair of trainers the first thing you'll notice is that the women's section is miniscule. The next thing you'll notice is that there are very few styles that are actually suitable for any kind of sport, as opposed to being simply fashion accessories. The next thing you'll notice after that is that if like me you're fortunate enough to be a size 5 or below, you're better off shopping in the boys' section - no VAT and they're actually designed for running in! Oh, and by the way, girls' trainers don't exist AT ALL. You can get cute things in pink for toddlers, but once your little girl is past the age of about eight, good luck finding her anything that isn't obviously designed for boys. No wonder teenage girls tend to lose interest in sport - they haven't anything to wear for it.
The cut of women's sportswear is not at all suitable for an athletic physique. I trailed round several sports shops last autumn to try and find a nice, comfortable yet stylish hoodie to go running in, and found that I could barely fit my arms into my usual size - the sleeves were cut for a skinny model rather than for an athlete. I had to go two sizes larger before I could move my arms comfortably, meaning that it was far too big on my comparatively slim torso. It's not as if my biceps are freakishly enormous - I'm a martial artist, not a weightlifter. Further evidence that the most strenuous exercise that sportswear companies think us girls are capable of is pilates. I never did buy a hoodie.
So, a sporty woman can look forward to chafing from ill-fitting clothing; droopy, stretchmarked breasts from ill-fitting bras; and joint and back problems from dodgy trainers. Great! It's enough to make anyone hang up their sweatpants in favour of a date with a large tub of Ben & Jerrys.
In short, women's sportsgear is all well and good if all you want from your hi-performance lycra mesh dri-fit hi-tech overpriced little spandex outfit is simply something to pose in which shows off your abs to full effect. But if you want something that's actually suitable for doing sports in, good luck finding it.
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