Monday, May 20, 2013

Shame, shame. I know your name.

I see a lot of public shaming on social media.

A LOT.

Fat shaming (Put down the sandwich!), skinny shaming (Eat a damn sandwich!), mom shaming (I cannot believe she fed her son processed fruit snacks!), non-mom shaming (She doesn't want kids? What is wrong with her? Being a mom is the most fulfilling experience a woman can have.), slut shaming (OMG Becky.  Look at her butt...).

If you don't know where that last line is from, we are not friends.

It's not like this is a new phenomenon.  I mean, as long as there have been people, we have been devising ways to tear others down, so we can feel better about ourselves.

But social media takes this to a whole new level.

Now, I'm not going to tackle the middle school bullying mentality of social media in this blog post.

That's a subject for an entire dissertation.

Plus, it's already been done.  And by better people than I.

No.  This blog post is just to focus on a new shaming trend I'm seeing in social media:

Exercise shaming.

What?

No, seriously.  It's a real thing.

I hate it when I see people doing bicep curls at the gym??  Curls are pointless.  They should be doing pull ups.

Ugh.  People need to get off the treadmills and get into the weight room.  Cardio doesn't help you lose weight.  You need weight training.

I see people in the gym spending hours on the treadmill.  They need to be doing high intensity intervals to see any real difference.

People need to get off the treadmills and run outside.  Treadmills = deadmills.  

Stop.  It.

Now.

You're getting on my f***ing nerves.

And maybe you should start worrying more about your own workout and less about everyone else's.

You are not a doctor.  You are not a sports therapist.  You are not a personal trainer.

Or maybe you are. 

But those people you're watching and judging at the gym?  You don't know them.  You don't know their fitness level.  You don't know what their health allows them to do.  You don't know their fitness goals.

You are the reason people are afraid or embarrassed to join a gym.  In the past, when people have told me they don't want to join a gym because they're so out of shape, and they don't want people judging them, I've brushed off their concerns.

No one's judging you.  People are at the gym to focus on themselves.  No one's paying any attention to you.

Now I know that's a lie. 

People are paying attention.  They are judging.

So stop it, people.

Worry about yourself.  Or if you are so worried about what other people are doing at the gym, help them.  Stop with the passive aggressive Facebook posts and tweets and whatever else the kids are doing these days.

Invite someone to workout with you.  Encourage someone to try a new class with you.  Suggest a trail run.  Or create a fun circuit and invite people to join you.

And just maybe you should break our of your comfort zone and try something new. 

There are a million ways to help someone improve on their workout and break them out of their routine.

But updating your status with some whiny post they're never going to see anyway isn't one of them.

A/N:  I am not Mother Teresa.  Or Jesus.  I am not so pure of heart that I don't have mean, nasty thoughts.  I like to think, most of the time, I catch it early and tell myself to stop being an asshole.  But if you do catch me being judgmental bitch, please say, "Hey, Rachel.  Stop being a judgmental bitch."

And anyone who has ever worked out with me is reading this and thinking, "OMG, she is such a judgmental bitch!  She gave me hell during that workout!"  To that I say, I wasn't being a judgmental bitch.  But if you ask me to workout with you, I'm going to push you to do your best.  Just like working out with you pushes me to do my best.

1 comment:

  1. I feel ya.
    After our recent car accident I couldn't do a whole lot because I banged the everloving S*** out of my knee. So I pedaled one of those stationary bike things on super easy to keep it from getting stiff while in the 'not being able to handle weight for very long' stage of healing.
    I was suddenly reminded of why I workout at home, by myself, where no one can see me... not even my husband.
    I don't think I would've gotten that many stink eyes if I'd gone to Mass in a string bikini.

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