In a shocking revelation that’s left fitness enthusiasts clinging to their kale smoothies for comfort, a groundbreaking study has confirmed what many have long suspected: the majority of gym memberships are, in fact, glorified keychains granting access to elaborate fitness-themed liminal spaces.
Dr. Sam Buffstein, head of research at the Institute of Unnecessary Studies, presented the findings this week. “We’ve conducted extensive research over the past year, monitoring gym attendance, usage patterns, and the psychological profiles of gym members,” Dr. Buffstein explained while looking very out of breath despite standing still. “And the data speaks volumes—or at least mumbles loudly while on the treadmill.”
The study reveals a staggering 95% of gym memberships become purely symbolic after the first month. “Members keep the keycards on their keyrings as a sign of virtue,” said Dr. Buffstein. “It’s like owning a treadmill at home but insisting it’s a modern art installation called ‘Clothes Hanger’.”
Indeed, some respondents confessed to feeling a profound sense of accomplishment from simply waving their little-spent keycard at anxious strangers during non-gym-related conversations. “It’s about sending a message,” confessed Helen Plumpstead, who hasn’t stepped inside “Body-o-Rama” since New Year’s Day 2019. “If someone asks if I go to the gym, I just jingle my keys with a knowing look. It’s all about the optics, darling.”
The study also delved into workout intentions. Initially, members are motivated by visions of transforming into sculptures of strength. However, life, Netflix, and repeat episodes of their dog’s frantic zoomies take priority over actual squats and lunges. Consequently, the pursuit of the perfect squat becomes a “maybe tomorrow” tale, often accompanied by a strategic brush of Cheeto crumbs from one’s athleisure wear.
In response to these findings, gyms have begun to capitalize on this behavior. “Why fight the tide?” said Jim Jimson, the bafflingly aptly-named owner of ‘Gainz Galaxy’. “We’re introducing new membership tiers, like the ‘Ghost Passport’, which lets you tap in using your smartphone from anywhere. It’s perfect for those looking to convince others they were at the gym without the inconvenience of actually being there.”
Accessories have also seen a spike in sales, such as faux-damp gym towels spritzed with hints of exertion-inspired perfume, entitled “Sweaty Elegance”. “Now you can hit the café after work and sport that worked-out aroma without breaking a sweat,” chirps the enthusiastic voiceover on their ad, which features a very fit-looking individual holding a mojito.
Meanwhile, some gym owners are embracing transparency, converting their workout spaces into exclusive cocktail and networking clubs. “Our self-empowerment cordials bring a new meaning to feeling the burn,” quipped Marcy Muscleworth, owner of ‘BarBells & Martini Bars.’ “The only dumbbells required are the ones used to shake up your post-workout cosmopolitan.”
All things considered, the study offers newfound peace of mind for millions misjudging their commitment levels. Instead of sweating it out, individuals can take pride in their choice of a premium cultural status symbol that, for better or worse, rarely sees the inside of a gym bag.
So, next time someone flaunts their gym key with hollowed enthusiasm, raise a glass—and a misunderstood smile. Cheers to gym memberships: the keys to nowhere and everywhere you don’t feel like going, but at least the keychain looks fabulous.