In defence of gym grunters

A recent NZ TV ad for TSB Bank attacks gym grunters. It suggests we shouldn’t tell gym grunters about TSB’s latest amazing offer because they are such annoying bastards, universally hated.

I couldn’t disagree more.

Insane point #1

Gym grunters are by far the best thing about the gym, nay the universe. I wish that everyone at the gym grunted as loudly as possible all the time.

How awesome would that be? Finally a world I could believe in again.

Imagine a world where skinny people lifting tiny weights grunted as if they had taken as many steroids as this guy:

Gregg Valentino. Holy Shit. Google about how his arms 'exploded'.

It is my heartfelt opinion that if you don’t intend to look exactly like Gregg Valentino or Arnold (Peace be upon Him), then you have no business engaging in any form of physical exercise whatsover, let alone weight-lifting.

The people who hate gym grunters are women and effeminate male hipsters, both lacking the necessary testosterone to develop tremendous guns or maintain an erection.

Arnie has few boundaries

Insane point #2

Gym grunting is really nothing other than breathing for professionals.

And people who are highly proficient at breathing are less likely to suffer massive brain aneurysms while lifting weights than someone like me who apparently lacks proper breathing technique.

How did it happen?

I was lifting weights and forgot to breath while straining – as if to knock out a great big fat one – and all of a sudden three things happened simultaneously:

1. I got an awful shooting pain in the back of my skull exactly like an ad for aspirin
2. I felt like I was going to puke
3. I felt dizzy and nearly passed out

I quickly harnessed my fear of public humiliation and fought the urge to faint, and five minutes rest + lots of water later I seemed ‘fine’.

I went to the doctor a couple of days later to inform her that I’d used the Internet to self-diagnose a massive brain aneurysm, and did she know any cheap neurologists.

She immediately embarrassed herself and revealed her lack of expertise by disagreeing with my wikidiagnosis and telling me I definitely hadn’t experienced an aneurysm.

Leaving the quack’s office I set out to tell as many grunters as I could about TSB’s sensational offering.