What Your Workout Attire Says

I’m not a gym rat. I never claimed to be. I get in, I get out, I get on with my life. I sweat much too easily, I play my sick rap beats so loudly in my ears that I’m not aware of the sounds/faces I make, and I’m most likely going to suffer from early hearing loss, and I'm sometimes "that girl" when I keep my lipstick on because it’s too hard to wipe off pre-workout. That’s me, at the gym, in a sweaty nutshell.

When it comes to gym attire, I keep it simple. Bottoms are almost always black and tops are either straight forward, v-neck workout tees or, once in a blue moon when I’m feeling extra confident and overheated, colorful workout tank tops. But, as I’ve come to observe in my recent visits to my local gym, my straight forward approach to workout garb is rare. Everyone's workout attire preference is different, but that doesn't mean it's right:

Oversized T-Shirt

She’s not happy to be here and, though I’d be willing to bet you’d find nothing but completely acceptable cuteness under all that material, she feels she has a lot to work on and is taking zero chances of any sort of material clinging to anything on her, ever. She wants to appear uncaring, almost like her friend dragged her here unwillingly. But there is no friend. There’s just her. She alone made the choice to come here and give being fit a whirl, but she wasn’t about to do it in anything but a t-shirt two sizes too big.

Hair Down

She worships the Kardashians, thinks putting small dogs in big purses is adorable, most likely has had poison injected into her face or is planning on it soon, and sucks so hard at life every single day. A girl who wears her hair down at the gym cannot be trusted on any level for any reason. She more than likely smells like a baby prostitute on the reg, takes a minimum of two hours to get ready, and has the lilt in her voice that makes everything she says sound like a question. Basically, she’s everyone’s worst nightmare and deserves to have her head buzzed mid-slumber.

Colorful Pants

Neither her butt nor her crotch area produce sweat and, for that, she is a goddess amongst peasants. She also isn't afraid of her cellulite being put on display, so again, she's a goddess.

Tight Ass Clothing

Little show-off. Yes, I know. You’re fit as hell. It’s very clear, thank you. You have left nothing to the imagination, and I know now that you’re thinner and better than everyone else here. And the worst part is you probably walk leisurely on the treadmill for 20 minutes and call it good, don’t you? Don’t you, you little bitch? Why are you here again?

Tight Ass Clothing w/ Boobs

Well, well, well. What do we have here?! Tight clothing and pushed up breasts? At the gym? This girl walks around like she owns the place. They could be fake, they could be real. It doesn’t really matter in this situation because they’re being exploited where they shouldn’t be – a smelly, sweaty fitness club full of people who are actually trying to get some work done and don’t need to be distracted by your selfie show. Tuck those things away and get to werk, GIRL.

All Brand Everything

This gal doesn’t come to the gym to workout. If you think that, you are sorely mistaken. Her sole purpose of being here is to show you either a) how rich she is or b) how rich she pretends to be. She is decked head-to-toe in lululemon (I know there are plenty of other expensive, athletic gear brands, but for argument’s sake, let’s go with lulu). Headband, shirt, pants, socks, sports bra – nothing is touching her body that wouldn’t touch a local socialite’s, and how dare you think otherwise? She’s a power walking, jogging, full-out sprinting, maybe even ellipticizing brand whore.

Hat Wearers

I just recently began dabbling in the hat club at the gym, and I must say – I get it now. These girls feel empowered. They’re here, in public, at the gym. But with their hat, they’ve somehow created an air of secrecy and clear-cut, faux athleticism. I’m no jock, but the second I put on that hat, I suddenly become an ex-basketball star who popped into the gym for a quick cardio sesh. Then I go home and drink wine and eat carbs, because I’m a thin and tall ex-basketball star who can do stuff like that. Eventually, the hat comes off and I snap to and cry.

No Shirt, Just Bra

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