A Dainty Diary of Lifting

Dear Diary: Feminism and confrontation at the gym

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It’s day 3 of BTFC. So far I’m doing well. I haven’t even tried to sneak in a box of smarties or an ice cream sandwhich. I woke up this morning and thought I looked hot, which is a rare occurence. I should be in a great mood.

Except I’m sort of angry. And I’m feeling so drained from being angry. Earlier, I was so angry I could have punched a kitten. I was just furious. Except being angry is exhausting, so it’s starting to wear off and I ate supper and food always makes me feel better because I’m a fat person at heart.

Anyway. Today at the gym, there were two bros beside me. Well, there was a bro and his bro-in-training, shall we say. The “teacher” was quarter-squatting lmao2plates. The “student” was 1/8 squatting 95 lbs. I’m not going to say that this confrontation happened because they felt emasculated. But I was squatting 205lbs for my worksets. I was hitting parallel. And I’m a 160lb midget of a woman. You can draw your own conclusions.

During my final set, Chief Broski said to his friend “Ya, she is going to get hurt.” Except he was standing 2 feet away from my platform. I heard. And I was really distracted. I re-racked my weights. I said, “You are distracting me. Is there a problem?”

“You’re going to get hurt. You aren’t in control. You shouldn’t be coming down that low, it will mess up your knees.”

Okay, so part of the reason I am furious is because dude decided to fuck up my workset with this unsolicited bullshit advice. And he said it in front of a weight room full of guys. Like monday afternoon, 4PM at a commercial gym downtown? Ya, the place was crawling.

I’m also mad because I just stood there speechless. I didn’t even try to defend myself. After staring at him long and hard, I just said, “Well thank you for your advice,” with as much vitriol as I could muster (which was actually quite a lot). There are about a million things I could have said. I still can’t think of anything that would have been witty and droll and totally perfect, but I could have made the attempt.

I keep reminding myself that I am strong. I know what I’m doing. Guys who have competed have stopped me at the gym and told me I’m a solid squatter. A guy at my gym went out of his way to thank me for helping him improve his deadlift form. My form is not perfect, but I know what my issues are and I never do anything I feel would be too risky for my level of comfort. And I don’t quarter squat.

I never self-identify as a feminist because I think it comes with some connotation of crazy. But then incidents like this happen and I have to admit I’m a feminist. This whole scenario would NOT have happened if I had a dick. I watch guys do the stupidest shit ever each time I go to the gym, but apparently it’s only okay to offer your broscience to girls.

Fuck off.

That’s what  I wish I’d said. That’s all there is to say. it upsets me that I let this whole affair get under my skin because it doesn’t matter. Because I can’t change his views. He is obviously too closed-minded to consider my opinion and all I can do is what I’ve been doing – which is working towards getting strong as fuark. And he can continue quarter squatting 2 measly plates for the rest of his life.


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