April 10, 2015

Getting the ol' blood pumping

Well, here we go again. Another ranty post brought on by reading Woogsworld.

Now before you carry on, please know that Mrs Woog is a good and excellent person, and the ranting that will shortly ensue is not directed at her, but aimed at the disgusting twerps she wrote about the other day in her blog post called Keep walking, you fat mole. Ugh.

If you haven't yet done so, head over and read it here, or let me give you a simple run down:

  • A woman puts on clothes.
  • A woman walks along a footpath in an effort to get the ol' blood pumping.
  • A carload of teenage boys yell abuse at her.
What the hey? This is not ok. But it is certainly not a one-off incident.

When I regularly exercised outdoors (this was a good long while ago, and I needed all kinds of promises from housemates that they would keep any tempting chocolate out of the fridge to not ruin my efforts), I would often get yelled at by men in whizzy little wanky cars. You know, Nissan Silvias and 1998 model Subaru WRXs... the kind of cars driven by grown men who never quite outgrew the pizza-delivery-boy stage.

I wasn't getting complimented or asked out, I was getting 'encouragement'. Because being told that your ass is huge is super-encouraging. I regularly would hear that tell-tale whooshzaaaa of a crappy little turbo blow-off thingy, cringe in anticipation, then hear 'Hey fat bitch!' or 'Long way to go before I'd f*** you!'

Let it be known that I was not exercising outdoors to reach a point where I would be attractive enough for these boy-racers to procreate with, I was exercising because my doctor thought it would be a good idea, and because I lived a 45 minute walk from my home in the inner city suburbs and it was faster to walk than catch public transport. I walked because I liked the time to think, to decompress after a day at work. What planet do those guys live on that makes them think for one second that my walking at a pace not unlike that of a sleepy turtle (although I think I rocked that lycra better than a turtle) was for their benefit?

I've also been egged as I walked along a main road. It was so horrible. The worst. And oh my word eggs are harder than you expect when they hit you hard on the boob.

I know that not everyone thinks this is a big problem, but I do. I spend a significant portion of my week up close and personal with women who have poor self-esteem and are wanting to change the outside of their body to feel better on the inside. A significant portion of my week squishing big boobs into sports bras, pulling up high-rise exercise tights to above belly-buttons to prevent them rolling down, and explaining in hushed tones that pawpaw ointment is BRILLIANT for preventing chafe on thighs that rub.

I've seen women cry when my colleagues and I passionately proclaim that they are allowed to exercise, and that nobody is at all interested in their camel toe (although, I can fit you in tights that won't give you a camel toe, I assure you). I have heard women tell me that they are at a great point in their life where that feel like they don't need permission to exercise and be comfortable in their bodies, and I love it.

Yes, I get all Spice Girls and make women come out of the change room in their huffypuffy* pants and strut around to Katy Perry's Roar. Sometimes they really need it, and I love that they can get it.

However, I hate knowing that there's a chance (a high chance) that walking their dog, strolling with their kids, riding a bike for the first time since they were 12 years old, they'll get yelled at. They don't need to be bigger for the abuse to be hurled either; I know women sizes 6 to 22 who have received charming** comments from guys driving past. (And occasionally girls. Carloads of teenage girls full of language you wouldn't expect from a sailor.)

So how do we stop it? I don't know. I know we need to talk about it though. Talk to our family and friends, both male and female and share that it happened. If you have to (and I am totally fine with this), call someone who thinks you're hot and tell them - get a nice little compliment out of them to balance the crap.

Have you been hollered at by some idiot while out exercising? What did you do? (And what would you have yelled back if you were witty enough?)

* Brilliant Woogs-word for workout tights.

** Not charming. Actually pretty shit.

*** In more pleasant news, I have a pretty fabulous giveaway next week, so pap back soon for a chance to win something special.


  1. Eggs DO hurt, don't they? So much. I remember going out for exercise and part of the getting ready was putting on my emotional armor. Half the time I couldn't understand what they were yelling, but based on the other half the time - it wasn't good.

    I would return from my walks/runs angry and ashamed, not empowered by my own strength. Was I so much fatter than I thought I was? Eventually, I stopped exercising in public.
    That just left the abuse/suggestions/"compliments" for while I was walking to public transport.

    The day I got egged was a real low point for me. The verbal abuse had become physical and I reeled in shock that strangers hated me so much, when all I had done was go for a walk. Years later I know the attack had nothing to do with me, my size, what I was wearing...but that's not what I felt while I picked eggshells from my hair, dropping them in the sink to mix with my tears of self hatred.

    I could tell you what size I was, but it wouldn't matter. The problem was that I was a unique female and in public, how dare I do that?

    1. Oh Mish, your comment makes me so very sad. I am so sorry that you have experienced this, and I hope you know that your uniqueness is exactly what makes you awesome!

  2. I remember in early high school I was walking to school from the train station and I saw the group of girls ahead of me get egged by boys from a local boys school. Not sure now, but it may have been around muck up day. We talked to the teachers about it and they said they couldn't do anything or complain to the school because the other school would just say anyone could have gotten their uniforms and egged the girls. I hated that school for many reasons, but that was another to add to it. Lamest bloody excuse ever. And I saw the pain that girl was in from being egged.

    1. Isn't it horrible when you know something just awful is happening, and there's really not that much that anyone in authority wants to do about it, apart from providing excuses?

      And yep, eggs HURT. Thank you for stopping by. xxx

  3. Disgusting behaviour. Why do peopel think that they can be so harsh and physically demean another human being. Chin up I say and do not give them any air space what so ever. They are the ones that have no self esteem as they display there anger and frustrations on others. V x

  4. Wow! I know this happens. I worked with a girl who battled anorexia coming close to death on numerous occassions after having an incident just like this. These people must think they are so damned perfect! Who yhe hell do they think they are??

    1. Oh Jodie, that's so sad to hear!

      And yes... the culprits are such horrible people.

  5. These sorts of people make SO fucking angry!! I can't believe there's cretins like this out there. God I'd love to be out in a room with them.

  6. Oooh this makes me furious! I have had a carload of boys drive beside me while I was running yelling "hup two three four" but I don't actually know if they were being smart or actually encouraging? I had a wee giggle about it anyway. I tend to run in a pack early Saturday mornings anyway, when the teenage boys are probably hiding with their hangovers. Safety in numbers!

  7. And this is why I exercise in a gym. Pity I can't take the dog on the treadmill though.

  8. It sucks so badly and what shits me is that there's a chance my daughter will have to face this crap!!!!!!!!!!


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