My core, is sore

If you are drawn into a class,
And they want you to flex your abs.
Run as fast as you can the other way,
If you don't you will have to stay.

If you stay you will have to work,
Then you will feel like a fat jerk.
The pretty girls they all will scowl,
As you sweat right through your towel.

The gay instructor he will chuckle,
As your knees continue to buckle.
When you sit there, like a whale,
Others succeed while you fail.

At the end you will be a pile,
That will match your self exile.
Fifteen minutes will have past,
And you'll wish you were a ghast.

Then you feel sore when you arise,
Oh god I can't move my thighs.
But then you feel like a geek,
And realize you'll be back again next week.