A Strongly Worded Letter to People Who Go Too Hard at the Gym

By The Betches

Dear Annoying People Who Think the Gym is Some Olympic Arena,

Betches hate doing work. On the rare occasion that we do haul our asses to the gym to show off our neon pink Norts and brand new running sneakers, the last thing we want to see are red-faced fugly people running like there’s no tomorrow. News flash: Channing Tatum is definitely NOT waiting for you at the finish line.

There are two types of gym goers that really aggravate a betch who’s just trying to see if the personal trainer looks as hot up close as he does all the way from the ab machine.

First, and probably more annoying, is the overly-fit loser who clearly has no other way to spend her free time than by trying to pack on more muscle than her ex-boyfriend who dumped her after he caught her stealing his protein shakes. A little competition is healthy in a relationship, but trying to out-lift your boyfriend is just not okay.

This chick is probably the same one who instagrams shit like her weirdly-muscular body in the mirror with hashtags like #fitlife #fitspo #getbig. Seriously, no one cares about the new fucking sports bra you just bought or how big your arms are getting. Both are the furthest things from turn ons and you really just look like a permanent fat chick stuck in some desperate girl’s body.

The second type of person who needs to stop messing up a betch’s gym environment is the actual fat person who sweats all over the machines. This girl just further repels us from coming to the gym because who wants to sit her Lululemon-clad ass on a bike that someone just drenched in gross sweat? Not this betch.

These aspiring skinny betches may serve as a confidence booster once in a while on days we’re not feeling as betchy as usual, but that’s about all the purpose they serve at the gym. Other than that they are just a sore sight for the eyes. Please stop trying to run 5 mph on the treadmill. Your rapid breathing and tomato-red face is starting to scare me.

So to these two types of absolute disgraces, you need to do less. No bro wants to go anywhere near a girl who is more toned than him. And no bro wants to go anywhere near a girl who could eat more than him at Buffalo Wild Wings.

Next time I hear one of you grunting while doing crunches (the only six pack you will ever acquire is the six pack of Budweiser your parents will buy you because they feel bad for you) or some female version of Dwayne Johnson snapping pics of her wiry arms in the bathroom mirror (you will lose followers if you post that shit to social media), I will very obviously give you the stink eye and strut my betchy ass right past your cloud of insecurity and B.O.

Just try telling me that my workout is your warm up. I’ll laugh in your face and remind you that my pregame is your night out.


The Betches




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