Dear Planet Fitness,
Now that the New Year’s resolution crowd is slowly giving up, I’m spending less time wading through the temporary workout weaklings and getting back to my regularly scheduled program. I finally find myself with enough time to write you addressing a few concerns.
Your “no gymtimidation” policy. Cute concept. I get it. Gyms can be scary places for people who have no idea what they’re doing. That’s where you come in. You offer a “judgment-free” zone where people of all fitness levels can exercise in one happy union of sweaty-cesspool bliss. But here’s the thing: you purport to be a judgment free zone, yet that doesn’t apply to people who are truly passionate about their fitness.
You’ve brazenly placed a “Lunk Alarm” siren on the wall in front of the free weights expressly for the purpose of publicly shaming people who are “lunking” it up. The bold-serif sign below the alarm sheds light on a very specific character you deem to be unacceptable:
Lunk (n.) [slang]
One who grunts, drops weights or judges.
[Ricky is slamming his weights, wearing a body tank top and drinking out of a gallon water jug…what a lunk!]
Still having nightmares about Ricky pantsing you in gym class, Planet Fitness? How about an Oxford comma with that snooty definition? The Lunk Alarm should be perpetually blaring its jarring purple siren from your judgment. This is a gym, is it not? Ricky obviously cares immensely about self-improvement, and is even properly hydrating! You probably prefer your members to silently walk at a brisk level 2 on the treadmill for 20 minutes, down a sugary Gatorade available for purchase behind the counter for $3.50, and be on their merry way.
Let’s just go ahead and list all your oddities to get them out of the way:
-The Lunk Alarm (loud)
-The overflowing tub of Tootsie Rolls at the front desk (sugar)
-Monthly “Pizza Mondays” (fatty)
-Monthly “Bagel Tuesdays” (ok I’m actually cool with “Bagel Tuesdays”)
-The hideous purple and yellow color scheme (nauseating)
-Your cheeky “teehee aren’t other gyms and their members just so inferior” signs (seriously, perpetuating insecurity just sets you up for ridicule)
-Your members’ pervasive ritual of spritzing and wiping a mysterious green blend of what I presume to formaldehyde, alcohol, and snow cone syrup on every machine after each respective use (I don’t know where everyone learned this from—I wasn’t taught this respiratory-damaging custom when I signed up for a membership.)
Let me clear the air. I myself am not a lunk. I’m 6’2”, 160 lbs. That translates to lanky. I, like most of us, swallow my guttural exertions when I’m lifting weights. And though this will likely cause hernias in the years to come, I do this for people like you, Planet Fitness. You who would find my eyes in the mirror if for no other reason than to assert some sort of backlash of disapproval as communicated through a brief, yet direct, glare. You who would make desperate passive aggressive attempts at maintaining some semblance of civil order when a taste of the primal poked its head out of the box.
I understand the fear. Trust me. But just leave the poor lunks alone. Let them grunt. Let them drop their heavy weights to shake the very ground on which the rest of us plebeians do 4 sets of crunches in bad form. Let them cry out to Thor in sadistic agony from the screeching throb of shredding muscular tissue and lactic acid buildup. Realize this is likely all they have. This is their podium. Their gladiator moment. At every other gym we willingly allow them this spectacle so that they will remain calm in the real world. Suppressing a meathead’s roar is akin to domesticating a killer whale. It’s inhumane. It’s dangerous. It’s passé.
Please just give them this one thing and keep us safe.
I will continue to work out at your gym—let’s be real; $10/month for a gym membership just can’t be beat. But just know that between my crusty ear buds and behind my neutral expression, I’m judging the shit out of you, Planet Fitness. That’s right. I’m noticing those stretch marks on your machine’s pleather seats. I’m smelling your cheap Green 3 sanitization solution. And I’m watching your empty boxes of greasy pepperoni pizza accumulate by the dozens on the first Monday of each month.
And yeah, I’m grabbing one slice more than you’re comfortable with me taking, because you know what? I’m cool with the lunks.
Judgingly yours,
Too-broke-to-go-elsewhere Planet Fitness member