Remember gym knickers?

There's probably a reason you forgot!

There was a story last week sharing the good news that the Womens England football team have finally changed their shorts from white to blue. Hurrah. It’s hard to understand why it hasn’t happened earlier. But then again, perhaps it wasn’t seen as a major issue. Just another one of those small things that (myself included) you don’t really consider. And yet…..

suddenly I’m right back as a 12 year old girl, stood in a cold sports hall wearing nothing but a t-shirt and some…gym knickers?!? How on earth had I forgotten about gym knickers? After mentioning this on Instagram stories it turns out that I’m not alone in forgetting about these God-awful items of clothing. My DM’s were flooded with women sharing their own horror stories.

Stories of being stood in a pair of pants in front of the whole school through a fire alarm, knees turning purple with the cold and plenty of comments like, “how can you forget being forced to wear a leotard?”

I did gymnastics throughout primary school. I was actually pretty good (it’s a longstanding joke in my family that my Mum claimed I was good enough for the Olympics. I believe this was a classic case of parental pride over-riding actual fact, but I play on it regularly). Upon starting secondary school gym pants weren’t a huge problem for me at first. Year Seven clearly hadn’t meant full puberty for me and I was used to squeezing into tight lycra. But this quickly changed and by Year Eight my excitement at PE turned into an uneasiness, and then eventually a dislike. Even back then, without being able to put it into words, I knew that something felt wrong about being made to wear a pair of knickers. The boys, in their baggy shorts, would pass the door of the gym on their way to the field, and you would feel their gaze burning onto your naked thighs. It was the start of the end of my relationship with sport.

Because then of course, there was the period issue. A strange double-edged sword. By this point I had already decided I hated PE. Which was weird considering I’d been the only girl on the boys football team in primary school and one of the fastest runners. And yet I would try to get out of PE at every opportunity. I’d walk the cross country race on purpose - we’d sometimes stop at a friend’s house to smoke and eat crumpets. Yeah, in hindsight I have no idea how we got away with it. My period became both an excuse and a genuine barrier. I wouldn’t fancy heading out to play netball with aching legs and stomach cramps, but there was rarely any sympathy offered. And in fact it was such a taboo subject that I soon learnt to use my period as a get-out pass. Even when I wasn’t actually on my period, I was “on my period!” The PE teachers were clearly uncomfortable talking about it. Actually, I think we were all uncomfortable talking about it. And the agreement to let me sit out of swimming then taught me that exercise wasn’t actually something you could do all month. If only someone had talked to us about listening to our bodies, our cycles, which days may or may not be harder to partake, the fact that you can still exercise, perhaps this would have been a different experience?

And yes, clothing definitely played it’s part. I am a cold-blooded person. I wear a scarf in Spring. So no wonder that wearing a tiny skirt during Winter made me groan. I felt pathetic complaining about it. We’d be told to toughen up. Get on with it. And yet it was properly miserable, wasn’t it? And not just because of the weather.

I hated my tree-trunk legs and having to parade them, pale and goose-bumped, was onerous. Being a teenage girl is fraught with identity crises - why on earth we make this harder in school with open changing rooms, short skirts and mainly competitive sports, I have no idea. By this point I didn’t want to compete. I’d been told I was hopeless at hockey and there was no way I was returning to gymnastics. I was on the D team for netball which basically meant we were left to our own devices and sat around shivering. This stuff matters. The actual type of sport on offer matters. When you are going through a major stage of, “don’t look at me” what you need is to find some exercise that you enjoy and makes you feel good. For me that was something less glaring. And so I shrunk further away from sport full stop.

I am hopeful that it is slightly better nowadays but I don’t think we’re there yet by any means. My 12 year old still wears a skort (skirt with sewn in shorts for, erm, added protection, hmm?!) to play football. There is the option of shorts but only a handful of girls wear them and she is too nervous to break the mould. I tried hard to encourage it and then realised that I was putting a burden on her that she shouldn’t have to carry. Let them wear joggers if they want to for goodness sake. Make leggings standard. Acknowledge that for many differing reasons, girls need to feel comfortable to get involved. Ask the question. I plan to ask the question of my daughter’s school after this week.

Former England captain Catherine Spencer wrote a piece for the Guardian in which she reflected on the changes happening for professionals:

“The women on the pitch have had to fight hard to get there. The least we can do to support them, and the young girls taking up sport now, is give them a uniform choice; talk about periods; and celebrate difference, but also normalise it."

Yes, quite. What you wear to play sport might seem insignificant but it isn’t. And how a girl experiences sport at secondary school really isn’t insignificant either. This is our chance to help them to develop a life-long love of moving their bodies. Or rather, stop them from losing the life-long love of moving their bodies, which most will have had since they were born.   

And what of my generation (which may well be yours?) This generation of women who didn’t have as many role models. Who mostly grew up without the opportunity to play football or rugby and were forced to wear gym knickers and not mention their periods. Who were rarely told, “this girl can.” Well, we are playing catch up I suppose. Finding our way into exercise in different ways. Hopefully beginning to change the narrative. I’ve certainly found strength training to be incredibly empowering in the last few years. Maybe one day I might return to try some gymnastics. But one thing is for sure, this time round I will be wearing whatever the hell I want. And it definitely won’t be gym knickers!

How about you? Remember gym knickers? Do you think your experience of sport in school had an impact on your relationship with sport/exercise? Do let me know in the comments.

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Journaling prompt:

Writing this post was interesting and enlightening. I’ve been re-building my relationship with my own body for a while and this brought a new angle. Looking back I can now see all these other factors that have impacted my relationship with exercise and sport. And not all entirely patriarchal, it has to be said. If you fancy writing your own story, I can recommend it. You don’t have to share it anywhere. Just have a think about a specific experience or your opinion or a situation you fancy getting down on paper. Explore, be curious, reflect. Or even write about what sports or exercise you would revisit given the chance.

Also, thank you to those who recommended that I read Poorna Bell – Stronger. I started it yesterday and am already loving it.

And finally, this. Not because it is remotely related to this post but because I read it today and it struck a chord. It is by Hannah Ro. I’ve put details of where to find you can find her writing below. Here’s to less competing and more connecting, in the gym and throughout our lives:

Follow Hannah on Instagram or her Substack is here

What a gem of a poem!

For anyone making a return to school/nursery/work after Easter today, hope it has all gone smoothly. I definitely didn’t do a little leap of excitement.

Thanks for reading, as always.

Hels x