Hamlet-ish:

To be (hot) or not to be (hot)—is that is the question?

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous cupcakes

Or to take arms against a sea of temptation

And by opposing, exercise. To gorge, to binge--

No more--and by a lunge, to say we end

The heart attack, and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wished. To lift, to lunge--

To lunge--perchance to squat: ay, there's the rub,

For in that squat of depth what thighs may come

When we have shuffled off these saddle bags,

Must give applause. There's the blood pressure

That makes ability of so long life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th' belly fat, the proud man's muffin top

The pangs of despised blub, the flaw's decay,

The diabetes, and the spurns

That patient merit of th' pig-out takes,

When he himself might his healthiness make

With a small effort? Who would barbells bear,

To grunt and sweat building a stronger life,

But that the dread of summer at the beach,

The undiscovered six-pack, from whose burn

No lifter returns, struggles the sit-ups,

And makes us rather bear those sweats we have

Than flop to others that we want not of?

Thus results does make sexy of us all,

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is boosted o'er with tight butt in skinny jeans,

And enterprise of great pitch and movement

With this hard bod, their self-esteem is high,

And love the name of action. – Hard, you now,

The fair will feel ya! -- Nymph, in thy own eyes

Be all your goals, remember.