During my DINK (dual income, no kids) days I dabbled for about 3 months in the underground fitness world of Crossfit. Back then it was still in raw "garage form", not the sleek Reebok space-age fitness you see on commercials today. To the untrained eye, these 'garages' resembled medieval torture chambers with their assortment of racks, ropes, bars, odd shaped weights and over sized tractor tires. It was a bold fitness move on our part. However, I don't think I ever exited out of Crossfit 'entry' level because, for some reason, the tractor tire I was supposed to flip was heavier than everyone else's. Probably a distortion in the Earth's gravitational pull on this exact spot I would tell the Hercules working out next to me. He just grunted and flipped his tire with his over sized, muscular thumb followed by 30 unassisted handstand push ups. He was the type of human that earned the right to wear slim-fit shirts that have sayings like "Crossfit Annihilation: Your workout is our warm up" and "Beast Mode: Activated." Not everyone can, or should, wear those types of shirts... it's a privilege, not a right.
But not everyone follows the rules of the universe. I was recently on a family vacation in West Palm Beach, where everyone is either born beautiful, or buys beautiful. Every morning our hotel lobby was filled with a colorful assortment of tourists aroused from their slumber by the smell of free breakfast. This particular morning a rather plump and balding man in a tight fitting "Animal" (written in the fiercest, angriest font you can imagine) workout shirt joined the bacon and egg feeding frenzy. His ankle high, striped white socks and palm-tree print bermuda shorts highlighted his moon-burned legs. Next to him was a tanned, athletic looking West Palm Beach poster boy donning a slim fit workout shirt and coordinated shorts that advertised a local Crossfit gym, which always seem to be named after some type of destructive or cataclysmic event. Perhaps it's owned by an insurance agent...I thought. However, I doubt the names Crossfit: Buttery Brawl or Crossfit: Tubby Terror have been taken.
The juxtaposition of the two shirt-wearers was shocking. One had earned the right to his shirt, the other was breaking the rules. If the universe had muscle shirt police, Captain Angry Animal would have been slapped a hefty fine and then forced to wear a more appropriate shirt: an oversized t-shirt with a picture of a flamingo sipping a martini, the words 'Livin' it up in Florida' screaming boldly across his chest.
But no such justice exists, and so we go on with our attitudes of muscle shirt entitlement at our own peril. The universe, however, keeps score, and one day at the Crossfit Annihilation Armageddon, all those who overstretched their muscle shirts with their rotund, non-slim fit bodies will endure an eternity with oversized t-shirts featuring boozing flamingos and cats engaging in odd human behavior. And looming behind the judgement bench, holding the balance of justice in true Herculean form will be none other than this guy:
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