Gym Bro Jr. Has Entered the Building.

Cody has given me a nickname at the gym and I am choosing to accept it as a compliment.

Gym Bro Jr.

Not because I'm huge. Not because I know what I'm doing. Mostly because I show up with unearned confidence, strong opinions about what music should be playing, and apparently an energy that says "I would like to speak to the manager of this barbell." He coined it. I'm keeping it. We're also starting a clothing line around it which I'll get to.

Why I Actually Go to the Gym

Let me be very clear about something: I am not at the gym for my health. I mean — sure, fine, that's a side effect, great, love that for me. But that is not why.

The real reason, the actual honest reason I drag myself in there and pick up heavy things, is so that one day — if a man is ever messing with my kid — she will be able to look him dead in the eyes and say with complete calm and total confidence:

"My mom can and will beat your ass on sight."

That's it. That's the goal. That is my entire fitness journey summarized in one sentence. I want to be the mom that other people's problems are afraid of. I want to be so visibly capable of causing a problem for anyone who causes a problem for my daughter that the threat alone is enough. I want her to have that card in her back pocket and know she can play it.

Is this a healthy motivation? Probably not in the traditional sense. Does it get me to the gym consistently? Absolutely. Does Cody think it's hilarious and also kind of the most correct reason he's ever heard? Yes. He does.

The Contradiction at the Heart of My Fitness Goals

Here's the thing though. Here's the truly unhinged part of all of this.

I want to be tiny.

I want to be so small and dainty. I want to be little. I want to be the kind of person who gets described as "petite." I want to take up a small and delicate amount of physical space in the world.

And I want to out-lift every single bro in that gym.

I want to be the smallest person in the room picking up the most weight. I want to walk past the rack of dumbbells the intimidating guys are using and grab something heavier. I want to be so unexpectedly, disproportionately strong that it becomes a thing people mention. I want to be dainty AND dangerous. Tiny AND terrifying. A little menace in a small package who could also bench press your problems.

Can you have both? Cody says no. Cody says I have to pick. Cody is standing next to me in the gym watching me attempt to do both simultaneously and looking at me the way Powder looks at me when I'm making a questionable decision — present, supportive, quietly certain this is going to be a whole thing.

I have not picked. I will not pick. I am simply going to be contradictory and strong about it.

The Clothing Line

So naturally, the Gym Bro Jr. era needed merch.

The inaugural piece of the collection is a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off — a proper, aggressive, I-did-this-myself muscle tank — that says one thing on the front:

I HAVE RABIES.

That's it. That's the whole shirt. No explanation. No context. Just a declaration of probable disease and the energy that comes with it. You wear this shirt to the gym and people will either immediately understand you or immediately give you more space at the squat rack, both of which are wins.

Cody approved the concept. I'm treating that as a board vote. The collection is officially greenlit.

More designs coming as the Gym Bro Jr. era evolves. I'm thinking something about out-lifting men who underestimate me. Something about being dainty and dangerous. Possibly something about my daughter's future ability to invoke me as a threat. We'll see where the chaos takes us.

The Characters

I also need to tell you about the people at my gym because there are characters in there. Full, developed, specific characters who deserve their own documentation. The guy who grunts like he's personally offended by gravity. The woman who has been on the same treadmill at the same time every single day for what appears to be years. The person who gives unsolicited form advice to everyone except the people who actually need it.

I'm not ready to do them justice yet. They need their own post. Multiple posts, probably. They are a whole universe and I am taking notes.

But for now just know: I'm there. I'm lifting things. I'm wearing a shirt that implies I have a communicable disease. I'm simultaneously trying to be tiny and terrifying. Cody is watching all of this happen with the patient energy of someone who has accepted that this is just what we're doing now.

Gym Bro Jr. era. We're in it. Let's go. 🏋️