Look, I’m just an elephant. A swole, slightly rotund, powerlifting pachyderm trying to get a decent workout. Is that too much to ask? Apparently, yes.
I stroll into a gym, minding my business, tusks gleaming, trunk wrapped in resistance bands, and suddenly I’m the villain. Sirens. Whistles. Trainers sprinting toward me like I’m a loose zoo exhibit. “He’s back!” they cry. Oh please—back? I was never allowed in the first place.
It’s not easy being the most wanted elephant in every gym I step foot in. I’ve snapped rowing machines like toothpicks. Treadmills burst into flames beneath my sheer mass. Don’t even ask what happened to the elliptical. (Let’s just say: R.I.P. sweet prince.)
I’m 10,000 pounds of pure motivation—and maybe just a little belly—but does that mean I shouldn’t get my gains on? Why can’t any gym accommodate someone with majestic glutes and hooves the size of SUVs?
Look, I’m not asking for much. Just give me a 30-foot bench press, some 20-foot bicep curl stations, and dumbbells I don’t have to use as earrings. Is that unreasonable? I don’t see giraffes getting this kind of discrimination.
They say, “You broke every machine.” Well maybe your machines weren’t elephant-tested. I say that’s on you, Planet Fitness.
So now, I wear this shirt with pride: “I Got a Gym Membership… I Broke Every Machine.” It’s not just a slogan. It’s my truth. It’s my struggle. It’s a size-XXXXXXL badge of honor for all the misunderstood muscle-bound mammals out there.
Get yours today and help raise awareness for elephants just trying to get a pump without structural damage. And hey, maybe next time you snap a leg press in half, you won’t feel so alone.
Join the movement. Just… reinforce the floor first.
