Swipe Right for a Workout
The gym is a hall of mirrors, selfies and smirks,
A hundred bodies posing for cameras, more concerned with hashtags than heart rates,
Every rep is performed for an invisible crowd, flexing muscles more for the lens than the lungs,
The trainers are influencers, the treadmills a backdrop for thirst traps and carefully arranged gains.
Nobody sweats here–just glistens, powder and product hiding the work,
She’s got a six-pack from lighting and angles, he’s got a plan but it’s all filtered and cropped,
They’re both here for the likes, not the lunges–this is a church of self-worship,
A place to see and be seen, but never to break a real sweat.
The yoga mats are unrolled, but the poses last just long enough for the perfect story,
Water bottles are brand-name, gym bags are statements,
And when the squat gets too real, everyone suddenly needs a “rest day” or “content break.”
We’re swiping right on bodies, swiping left on effort,
Chasing an algorithm’s approval instead of our own improvement,
The only burn is from staring at the phone, checking for validation,
Actual fitness is an afterthought–nobody here’s working out their pain,
Just editing their imperfections until even they believe the lie,
But in the quiet between photos, everyone’s lonely and soft,
Under the Lycra and glow, the hearts beat bored and slow.
Maybe someday, someone will drop the phone and actually break a sweat,
But for now, it’s flex and pose, like, follow, repeat–
No one’s stronger, no one’s faster, but damn, don’t we all look good in the light?