I once tried CrossFit. Once. The only thing I “crossed” was the street on the way to a bakery after quitting halfway through. I respect athletes — just not enough to become one. My personal fitness journey isn’t about reps or gains. It’s about irony, imbalance, and figuring out how many jumping jacks you can fake before someone notices.

My favorite workout? Witty deflection. Every time someone asks “Do you run?”, I say “Mostly from commitment.” I’ve built a strong core — of sarcasm. My cardio includes heavy breathing when I laugh too hard at my own jokes. My personal trainer? Shame.

You know those inspirational fitness quotes? “No pain, no gain.” I live by “No effort, no injuries.” When I lift weights, I’m really lifting societal expectations. And dropping them. Loudly. Usually onto my foot.

Some people train for marathons. I train for moments — like carrying all the groceries in one trip or reaching for the remote without shifting position. It’s functional fitness. Or dysfunctional, depending on the angle.

In the end, my relationship with fitness is like my relationship with adulthood: performative, inconsistent, and mostly for the sake of appearances. But hey — if laughter burns calories, I’m practically an Olympian.