WOULD YOU WORKOUT IN A
ONE-PIECE?
Serena Williams wearing a Nike bodysuit at the 2019 Australian Open.
Getty Images
5 Minute Read
From Pilates to the gym, bodysuits are trending. Do they help or hinder training? Erin Lardy and Ramla Ali go head-to-head.
FOR
By Erin Lardy
I’m making my case for ditching separates.
Let's discuss the two most infuriating things that can happen while strength training while wearing a top and bottom. One: pulling up your spandex bottoms between every set. Two: your sports bra riding up mid-overhead press for an unsolicited underboob moment for everyone in the gym.
Both problems, it turns out, are downstream of the same design flaw—and both are deeply personal. My measurements are 38" bust, 30" waist, 42" hips. Cosmopolitan would call me pear-shaped. I prefer ‘power pear’. My physique is bottom-heavy, curvaceous, and locked the hell in. I'm proud of what my body can deadlift and how it looks in a bodycon dress, but that 12-inch differential between my hips and waist is a death sentence when it comes to workout pants, especially leggings: too loose and there's visible gaping; too tight and I'm spilling out in all the wrong places. If you're like me and you train in a mirrored gym to eyeball your form, separates are a buzzkill. Rather than reveling in my strength on an overhead press, I'm distracted by the overhead lighting hitting my under-construction midsection.
There is, fortunately, a one-piece solution.
For the power pears among us, the bodysuit is a revelation. It hugs and accentuates the natural curvature of the body without the clumsy interruption of a seam, and solves the gaping waist problem that leggings will never fix. A one-piece makes me feel—I say this affectionately—like a sausage in its casing. I’m perfectly contained. Undeniably snatched. Comfortable, safe, and snug. For women who are still building their glutes, it shows off what you have and leaves room to grow. For my petite Polly Pockets, it elongates your body by eliminating the visual ‘break’ at your waist.
Beyond the fit, a bodysuit is a timeless style piece. It is a basic without being basic; it’s a classic silhouette pioneered by Azzedine Alaïa that works just as well with heels as it does with sneakers. Throw on a cropped jacket and some hoops post-workout, and you’re ready to take a work meeting or meet your friend for a glass of wine on the way home. (Me, frequently.)
Simone Biles at the 2024 Paris Olympic Games; Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter tour in Las Vegas.
Getty/Parkwood Entertainment
They're also just highly functional. Deep squats, deadlifts, hip thrusts—the full DNA of booty gains—demand unrestricted movement, and a bodysuit doesn't bunch, ride, or slide. Whether you’re running, stretching, or lifting, it moves with you. It’s not a coincidence that the world’s most elite athletes—gymnasts, ballerinas, and dancers—have trained and competed in one-piece variants for decades. Leotards offer a smooth silhouette on-stage, but the lack of a waistband also stops a ballerina from getting dropped mid-air; there’s no fabric slippage to affect her partner’s grip. Off the performance floor, it has been the uniform of choice for mega artists on tour. Lady Gaga, Beyoncé (wearing a custom Loewe version for Cowboy Carter), and Taylor Swift have turned the one-piece into a modern power suit.
Like the wrong swimsuit or a bad wig, an ill-fitting bodysuit will have you scared straight. How to do it right? Dark, solid colors are your best friend. Look for supportive compression material, soft moisture-wicking fabric, proportional tailoring, and a shelf bra, ideally with a crossback to pull everything in and up. A semi-open back is nice for ventilation. Avoid a front seam at all costs; it will unanimously ride up.
My conclusion? The bodysuit is a fashion innovation that’s unequivocally for the girls. It’s snatching everyone from pop stars to gold medal Olympians, to the civilian strength trainer in her late 30s who just wants a one-and-done outfit to support her curves and gains. The bodysuit’s benefits are so undeniable that I am still willing to strip naked every time I have to pee. I have factored this in, and my position on the one-piece still stands.
Hermès
AGAINST
By Ramla Ali
Listen, I love a good trend as much as the next person. As a professional boxer, I've shown up to pre-fight weigh-ins in custom Versace. But women's workout jumpsuits? This is where I draw the line.
Let me be clear—I am not against looking good at the gym. I've literally built a side career proving you can be both fierce and fashionable. But there's a difference between thoughtful design that serves your body and movement, and whatever fever dream convinced someone that a full-body onesie with built-in chest support was the answer to our fitness prayers.
Jumpsuits feel like an attempt to solve a problem we never had: that tiny gap of skin between your sports bra and leggings that appears for 0.3 seconds during a burpee was apparently worth the pay-off of inconvenience.
Gold medal winning weight lifter Suratwadee Yodsarn of Thailand; Serena Williams at the NASDAQ 100 Open in 2005. Getty
First, they are impractical. Women who work out drink water. A lot of water. You know what's efficient? Leggings you can drop in three seconds. You know what isn't? Having to get completely stark naked just to use the bathroom. These jumpsuits are all or nothing. There's no sports bra underneath to preserve your dignity. You're doing a whole Houdini routine in a space designed for one person that’s not set up for clothing removal; you’re trying not to let your sweaty jumpsuit touch the floor while balancing topless like some kind of performance artist.
Another major factor of note? Our menstrual cycles. Garments that require full-body nudity for a tampon change in a public bathroom feel unnecessary. We fought too hard for basic dignity in gyms to voluntarily sign up for strip shows in the stalls.
Then there's our internal temperature to contend with. Bodies don't heat evenly during training. Your core or chest might be lava while your legs are fine. With separates, you can adjust. You can whip your top off and work out in your sports bra; it’s got you covered.
Another elephant in the room? Many of these jumpsuits are marketed as making your bum look bigger. They boast of design techniques including contoured panels, strategic seaming, and "booty-enhancing" fabric technology. You know what actually makes your bum bigger? Squats. Deadlifts. Kettlebell swings. An actual workout program. Not dollars-worth of optical illusion stitched into spandex. If you're buying activewear based on how it makes your glutes look before you've even trained them, you're approaching this entirely backwards. Just build your bum.
We've spent years perfecting small wins in women’s clothing. Sports bras with proper support that you can mix and match with anything. Leggings that stay put. There’s always room for improvement, but each piece has an independent purpose. Are we supposed to abandon all that progress? A jumpsuit with an in-built bra doesn’t allow for training modifications based on the sport. You need a low-impact bra for Pilates, a medium-support bra for weightlifting, and a high-impact bra for running and boxing. The jumpsuit’s in-built offering limits us in its capabilities.
Jumpsuit advocates will tell you it's "streamlined" and "eliminates distractions." But jumpsuits actually create friction: after a sweaty workout, you have to peel yourself from this full-body compression suit that sticks to you like Saran Wrap. Jumpsuits, when dry, are manageable. Jumpsuits, when soaked in perspiration, become industrially adhesive. Undressing is like performing a reverse birth. Someone might need to call for backup. There should be an emergency pull cord.
Some revolutions are worth fighting for. This isn't one of them.
