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Op-ed: Scream on Your Last Squat Rep One More Fucking Time


For me, exercise is a moment of zen. It’s a time to forget about life’s difficulties, be they paying bills, finding work or the fast-approaching fall of American democracy. When I'm in the gym, I just want to zone out, lift weights and listen to some soothing gangster rap.


The absolute last thing I want to do is listen to you scream like you’re simultaneously dying, shitting and having an orgasm, but if I have to hear it six times, I might as well hear it a seventh. So please, give me a reason to tell you to stop. Scream on your last squat rep one more fucking time.


Don’t get me wrong, I understand that hitting a new max doesn’t count unless you brag about it to anyone who will listen to you, and the people you flex on definitely care and totally aren’t just appeasing your deeply rooted but painfully obvious body image issues, but we have eyes for a reason.


We can all see how heavy the weight is, and we’re all proud of you for drinking your milk, getting your eight hours of sleep and growing up to be a healthy, big boy. No one needs you to yell like you’re William Wallace being disemboweled at the end of “Braveheart” to be any more aware that you’re stronger than they are.


It’s obvious you’re compensating for something. You need everyone to acknowledge how tough you are because your parents never did, and I hope every rep you complete is a metaphorical middle finger to your dad who disowned you for taking tap dance lessons. But, here's the thing: grunting loud enough for the entire room to hear you won’t make him remember your birthday, it will just annoy everyone else.


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