As betches hate doing work and love going out, we’re placed in an obvious moral predicament when it comes to working out. When
running texting really hard on the elliptical, we often stop to wonder, am I doing too much work? But we immediately shake the thought away because like, can you imagine what kind of heinous muploads you would have with a double chin. And OMG, what kind of side pose would I make with fat arms? The horror.
Going to the gym is a fucking hassle, period. Sure we love showing off our sick new neon Nikes while casually staring at bros as they lift weights, but it requires serious effort, which is out of character for betches. Things come easily to us, like popularity and free shots, so for some, having to combat the reality that they may not have the fastest metabolism is a fucking shock.
Sure there are betches out there that don’t go the gym and still have perfect bodies, but keep drunk eating that late night pizza and just wait, in a few years not only will you be hooking up with guys from community college, but you’ll be that girl with the profile pic from 3 years ago. The one from before she got bangs and stopped doing coke.
And who doesn’t hate the psycho gym betch? She makes you feel like shit about the fact that while you’re sitting on the couch hungover contemplating ordering sushi, she’s on her way to Body Bootcamp in her fucking Lululemon leggings. This is the same girl that thinks that looking like the mom in Modern Family is hot. Sorry bitch, we commend you on your collarbone, but you’re one tricep extension away from having veiny man hands. Chill. No bro wants to date fucking Rocky Balboa.
Let’s talk about the marathon betch. To the rest of the world this girl might be called an exercise bulimic but in betch world she’s simply the girl who used to be fat. Marathon betch is super type A, has a workout complex, and probably has some form of uptight OCD. This girl gets high off of telling people she’s training for a marathon and she’d rather miss her cousin’s funeral than admit she skipped a day at the gym.
A real betch knows the real way to work out. She updates her iPhone with Avicii’s latest and greatest, makes sure she looks like she’s not wearing any makeup with a faint line of eyeliner and a touch of bronzer, and times her “run” perfectly with Friends re-runs. Oh, and forget to bring the smart water? Turn the fucking car around. Then she does an hour of cardio followed by a 1 or 2 stop and chats with her friends on the Arc, followed by maybe like 30 crunches. If she’s
in the mood not too fucked up from last night, she’ll do a few reps with the 5 lb weights. Hmmm my biceps need a bit more work, maybe I’ll use the 8 lb ones this time, they’re so cool and hot pink!
Regardless of how you work out, just remember that when you’re on the ellipt or walking the tred on a high incline, please don’t text anyone that you’re at the gym, or like, check-in on foursquare. Aside from the fact that no one fucking cares that it’s your third time at Equinox this week, failing to continue to check-in will have the outer circle friend investigating your Facebook pictures like she’s a fucking US Weekly editor looking for the exact moment when you blew up and your love handles returned from vacation.
Be you the soul cycle, yoga, or gym rat betch, working out is about looking and feeling your best. Unlike school work and bitch work at your internships, working out is the only type of work that actually solely benefits you and that you can’t get a nice girl to do for you. Nothing perturbs a betch more than having to be photographed with the fatty bestie, so if you’re not working out you should definitely be partying in.