There are plenty of reasons a person may be out of, or fall out of, good physical condition. Disease, lack of time, a primal urge to blame everything on one’s children. Just to name a few. Here’s a new reason to be a layabout squish dumpling: Donald Trump. Meet Brigid Delaney from Australia. She’s a columnist for The Guardian hoping to be taken seriously, despite possessing the physical prowess of a bendy straw. The rainbow kind. But Brigid’s inability to sort through her sock drawer without a nap isn’t her fault.
It was November 2016 and the only person I knew who believed Trump would win the US election was the owner of my gym. This was clearly a ridiculous prediction so, seeing the chance for some easy money, I offered to bet him $100 that Hillary would win.
Brigid’s first problem is failing to leave her comfy little echo chamber, which she’s decked out with bean bag chairs and Obama “HOPE” posters.
But the gym owner, clearly not wanting to do his dough, pointed at this horrible thing in the corner with the name “sled” and said: “If Trump wins you have to pull 70kg on it.”
I haven’t checked, but maybe The Guardian is in need of a copy editor or two. Unless I missed Brigid’s article where she states she’ll write like a second grader because “That’s how Trump does it, lol.”
But Trump trounced the tented she-daemon in a spectacular night shining with leftist tears. Forcing Australia’s version of Diana Prince to warrior up.
I pulled the sled like a human oxen while being filmed and the gym staff cheered. I did it. But the Trump victory soured my successful show of strength.
Yeah, I could pull a pretend sled. But how was that going to help me when the world had been destroyed by nuclear weapons or climate change?
Point of contention: Donald Trump cannot be an idiot but also a megalomaniac powerful enough to destroy the world with nukes. Or the failure to employ a reusable tote while shopping at Whole Foods. Cute that Brigid equates the nuclear apocalypse with warmer summers.
Side note to leftists: if you want conservatives to be nicer to you, please don’t be so wantonly stupid. We’re only human after all.
Also, not to be that person, but is there ever a moment where someone says “Oh gosh darn it, I really wish I hadn’t worked out”? Since when is flabbiness a desirable quality post-apocalypse? Be that from nukes or too many cow farts. If someone could get back to me on that, I’d appreciate it. Maybe I should open a new line of gyms. Where people don’t work out, they just sit and bitch.
Back to Brigid, queen of the muffin tops.
But I also didn’t return to the gym. I associated it now with Donald Trump, the bad meal and pulling the sled.
It was 9 November 2016 and my thinking about fitness changed almost overnight. In tune with the times, it became more Trump, less Obama.
Fitness is separate from politics. This woman could’ve just, bear with me here, gone to a different gym. She could have, bear with me here, taken up a different form of fitness. She could’ve downward dogged her way to a better mental state. She could’ve joined a CrossFit box to trade in her complaints about Trump for Fran. But that’s not what she did. Instead, Brigid went all in on the victim identity:
In the spirit of the Donald, I drank more bottles of Diet Coke and ate more McDonald’s. I dropped the gym – embracing Trump’s belief that we are given a certain amount of energy and if we use it then we are depleting a finite resource.
Reminder this woman is totally serious and not writing for The Onion.
Trump explained his exercise routine like this to Reuters: “I get exercise. I mean I walk, I this, I that. I run over to a building next door. I get more exercise than people think.”
I walked. I this. I that. Months passed. Then a year. Trump was going to be in power for another 1,000 years. Or at least that’s what it felt like. Could I really avoid the gym for the entirety of his presidency?
When conservatives say the left embraces the victim mentality, this is exactly what we mean. This woman is a victim of her own self-imposed hysteria. She traded a healthy pursuit for a life of whining about something that was never in her control: the American president. Brigid is an Aussie. She decided to be a victim of Trump, because to her ilk, suffering for the sake of suffering is a great form of bravery.
Don’t believe me? Check out this line:
I missed being strong enough to open jars and carry groceries.
He or she who didn’t think of this moment, cast the first pickle.
She made herself weaker why? What point was she ever trying to prove? The only explanation she ever gave was “Because Trump said he doesn’t go to the gym.” Ergo Brigid allowed Trump to grab her by the sanity. What little sanity she had.
Again, leftists. You want us to be civil toward you, please dial back the cray cray.
So, last week, I returned to the gym, slinking back in as if no time had passed. I hoped that by wearing a puffy jacket and MC Hammer pants I could hide my lack of definition – that I could pretend I had maintained my fitness on my own. At home, running to the building next door. On the couch. While tweeting.
Brigid never describes what she put over her mouth to prevent the stupid from flying out like rage spittle. I’d like to think it was a mask inspired by Bane. Tweet me your best photoshops.
But you can’t hide fitness. You either have it or you don’t. You can either lift the dumbbell or you can wobble on your fifth rep and drop the load.
There’s an expression: The dead don’t know they’re dead. Death is hardest on the living. It’s the same with stupid people. Brigid exemplifies it. She’s that person who waits in the Costco Food Court line, then when she gets to the cashier asks “Do you serve pizza?”
I was fit in 2016, before Trump. But when you stop, it goes. And it goes quickly. A week or two and you have to start again with the 2kg dumbbells and the tremor in your forearms.
The same applies to thinking. Use it or lose it. When you abandon thinking for CNN-inspired feeling, with self-imposed victimhood, it “goes.” In Brigid’s case, it goes publicly. So people around the globe can have a chuckle over her proud stupidity. Her unbridled desire to be seen as a victim of her own mental deficiencies. Suffering from the oversimplification “Trump removed my ability to open jars.”
God, I love the internet for this.
Leftists like Brigid here are indeed victims. But they’re not victims of Trump. They’re not victims of the patriarchy. They’re victims of their own mental prisons. Where they are their own rapists.
~ Written by Courtney Kirchoff