Creatures of the Weight Room

Ladies, we’ve all met them. The creatures of the weight room. The ones who violate personal space, invade your set, or just exist or breath in your direction without consent (instant ick). You came to lift in peace, but instead you’re dodging grunts, stares, unsolicited advice. Welcome to the weight room — part gym, part wildlife preserve, where primitive male behavior is alive and well across gyms everywhere. Here’s your unofficial field guide to the usual suspects and, more importantly, how to survive them.

The Grunter

You hear him before you see him. Every rep comes with a groan, a roar, or the sound of a dying walrus. Somehow, he’s always facing your direction like a wild animal in heat.

Survival Tip: Noise-canceling headphones are your shield. Bonus: avoid eye contact, or he’ll get louder— like a gorilla beating its chest, only hairier and smellier.

The Stare Master

He doesn’t lift. He doesn’t move. He just… sits. On a machine. Watching you. Like you’re Netflix and he’s chilling — if only there were a remote to switch him off.

Survival Tip: Hit “skip” and move to another machine, preferably on the other end of the gym.

The Gym Bro

He adds more plates than his spine can handle, jerks out half-reps before the weights come crashing down onto the floor with a bang loud enough to wake the dead.

Survival Tip: Stand clear. His ego weighs more than the bar, and gravity always wins.

The Mansplainer

He thinks the weight room is a man’s world and you’re a visitor on leave from the kitchen. He’ll walk up mid-set and take your equipment without asking, like you won’t throw these hands.

Survival Tip: BREATHE. Exhale, then add more weight. Nothing confuses him more than a woman who lifts heavier than he does.

The Delulu Uggo

Picture a sewer rat in sneakers, shuffling around the gym with the ego of a Calvin Klein underwear model — except from the Goodwill bargain bin. Completely unaware that his very existence is harassment. In reality, he’s the kind of germ you’d spray with Lysol — twice.

Survival Tip: Keep your headphones in and your resting boundary face strong, and wait for pest control.

The Super Setter

Occupies two machines at once during peak hours, drapes a towel over a third, and disappears for ten minutes between “sets," only to come back and sit on his phone. Then he barks, "HEY! I'm using that!" at anyone who dares touch the unoccupied machines.

Survival Tip: Treat his towel like his workout — invisible. Snatch it — the towel will sweat harder than him.

The "Come Get Me"

He asks how many reps you have left. You say, “I just started.” Instead of taking a hike, he drops the audacity bomb: “Can you come get me when you’re done.” You pause, wondering if you actually just heard that right-your eye twitching with RAGE. All you see is red. Would this twerp ever pull that line on another man?!?" Not a chance. You dismiss him and his small biceps, only for him to return mid-set and shake his head, like you’re the problem. How dare you, a woman, use equipment he wants.

Survival Tip: Lift. Ignore. Repeat. Treat him like he treats leg day-nonexistent.

The weight room will always have its creatures — grunting, staring, hoarding, and generally mistaking gyms for their natural habitat. For women, survival isn’t just about finishing your sets; it’s about dodging egos, swatting away delusion, and keeping your sanity intact using state-of-the-art weaponry; noise-canceling headphones, a strong RBF, and the occasional eye roll. You're basically at a circus filled with spandex-wearing monkeys, who've mastered texting- and will 100% swipe right if your profile pops up on their dating app of choice.