The twisted allure of mean trainers
Why do I want to be cussed out?
Body Type brings you insights, essays, and guidance about body image and body culture from me, an independent journalist who has been through big body changes and worked inside the wild world of the fitness industry.
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In my early 20s when my life felt like a standing room-only shitshow, I made a list of all the ways I was screwing up and wanted to improve. I wrote SORT YOUR FUCKIN’ LIFE OUT, MATE, a random line from 2004’s Shaun of the Dead, at the top. Shaun’s roommate yells that because he’s sick of Shaun’s immaturity and chaos. I was sick of my own. I was slowly killing myself with binge drinking and eating, spending ludicrously beyond my means, and neglecting my career. I needed to have a go at myself, like Fleabag:
Subconsciously I knew that being gentle with myself would not be what set things right — honestly confronting what I’d screwed up, and leaning into how fed up I was with myself, would be.
If someone from 2024 was looking over my shoulder at my list, they might have told me to give myself grace, a concept that seems everywhere lately. That would have pissed me off. Since I’m neurotic and addicted to achieving things because I’ve learned to dress my anxiety up as ambition1, giving myself grace sounds like letting myself off the hook, acquiescing to the uncaring whims of the universe, and waiting for my life to blow over2. I know that you can be assertive about getting your shit together while practicing self-compassion, but the therapy speak-y way give yourself grace is thrown around sounds to me like release yourself from accountability — probably because I used to release myself from accountability so much that it was ruining my life, so now I’m hypervigilant.
I’m more likely to drill sergeant myself into change than I am to lovingly construct a good vibes vision board, and I think I know why: I’m tough on myself when I’m sick of myself, and when I’m sick of myself I’m ready to change. The Sort Your Fuckin’ Life Out Sit-Down is inherently optimistic. It happens when I’m finally motivated enough to get my act together, and doing that requires a degree of aggression. Maybe that’s why I like to tap into that aggression from the start.
Remember Jillian Michaels, the mean trainer from The Biggest Loser? It appears she’s now a Fox News guest/edgelord desperate for relevance, but in spectacular The Worst Person You Know Just Made A Great Point fashion, she said something in a 2021 article that unfortunately rings true:
Michaels also makes no apologies for her tough-love approach to weight loss, which struck some viewers as cruel.
“You need them to feel the pain of the way they’ve been living,” she said. “You need them to have a rock bottom moment where they’re like, ‘I can’t take one more moment.’”
I’ve never really changed until I truly felt the pain of staying the same.
This brings us to the social media trainer.
My algorithm has introduced me to Devin J. George and others like him who capture eyeballs by being aggressive, snarky, and tough love-y in their videos. Devin’s profile says “Follow At Your Own Risk!” and his whole thing is cussing at people about how they can lose their “big-ass” stomachs or backs. He insults the “stupid shit” people do in the gym instead of the essentials of strength training. His commenters love it:
On Monday we need a talking to like this 😂
I love the way he talks 😂😂😂😂 the vulgarity is encouraging lol
Been doing better since following him. I need the honest truth! Getting cursed out does it for me 😍
You know, I’ve been doing great since I started letting you cuss me out. I don’t know if I should just be jubilant at my success or appropriately horrified by my apparent masochism.😂🤣
After much research, I’ve concluded that the substance of his fitness guidance is legit:
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From the caption of that video, which you should read in full:
Going to the gym for fat loss is going to create a bad relationship with the gym, you should be going to the gym to improve your physical and mental health. The gym should be fun & a celebration of what your body can do, not a place where you punish yourself for the bad decisions you’ve made.
Well … yes!
As much as I deplore body shaming of all kinds, multiple things are true here: Devin’s addressing the superficial desires of the market — a lot of people just want to lose their “big-ass stomach” to look different, they’re not worried about health — and then offering sound advice that’s going to help people in a holistic way. A lot of people need to walk through the door of I must lose weight at any cost, that’s all I care about! first to get to the meaningful, sustainable, truly healthy habits and body image healing on the other side. Devin’s not shilling flat tummy teas or crash diets, he’s giving the same sound advice that the friendly neighborhood Ben Carpenters and Casey Johnstons of the fitness world are giving.
Call me a hypocrite, but it’s harder for me to get that mad at the “big ass stomach” of it all — which to me smacks of a kind of shock jock, Comedy Central Roast, insult comic, farcical Mean Trainer persona more than it indicates he really wants to make people feel shame about their bodies — when the speaker is giving advice that could potentially save people from trying another starvation diet or getting a potentially life-threatening BBL instead of learning to train glutes.
So why do people like the Mean Trainer thing?
In my time as a group fitness instructor, I encountered two distinct camps: The people who loved the drill sergeant approach and the people who didn’t. Some people said they found the kick-my-ass style motivating; I’ve found that it can help me feel more mentally tough, break past my comfort zones, and be more accountable. Hardcore trainers are likely perceived as more confident and authoritative and so more results-oriented and knowledgeable (this is absolutely not necessarily true, but our brains tell us tales). For others, the Mean Trainer style instills insecurity and fear and doesn’t work at all. It’s a matter of personality and preference.
But I found Devin’s videos when I was in a lower point with my strength training life. I was avoiding figuring out what my goals were or finding a program to stick to, I was getting lazy, I was sliding into bad habits. I can give myself grace, yes, about all that — it’s been a jam-packed few months with shifting priorities — but I was also getting sick of myself for not getting my ass in gear to do the things that make me happy and make my life better. Having a no-nonsense gym bro cuss me out about the bad habits I know are making my life worse and reminding me of the power of progressive overload was a kick in the ass I needed.
I also needed to not take all this so seriously. In a weird way, the Mean Trainer bit makes me feel less like fitness and exercise are sacrosanct concepts that must be discussed only with utmost respect and care. I’m a firm believer that body discourse requires respect and care, yes, but I don’t know, man … sometimes I just want to lighten the fuck up about it all. Bodies are preposterous meat sacks, exercise is silly as hell when you think about it — look at us, flopping and flailing around to counteract the effects of mostly sedentary modern life! — fitness-obsessed people are cringey lunatics3. We could all do with a little irreverence, I think.
Maybe since I’ve been working out for so long now, I’m more tolerant of the Mean Trainer style: I don’t need to be gently eased into anything. I’ve been doing this long enough that I know my own body, I’ve cultivated a lot of physical and mental resilience, and a lot of stuff that used to bother me just doesn’t anymore (see the article linked above for more on that). I’m reminded of the post I wrote, “Pushing is not punishing,” about the positive power of the hardcore workout. Here’s what Michelle Obama had to say about that:
“For me, there is no quicker or more efficient way to obliterate stress and get focused on the present moment than to throw myself into a hard-core, edge-pushing workout. Or even better, a series of them. I guess you might say that vigor is one of my Love Languages. I like who we become when we’re feeling a little pushed.
That’s how this feels — I’ve learned that going hard, having my edges pushed, and bringing vigor to the proceedings doesn’t hurt me. It’s not bad for me. When I see content from trainers like Devin it feels like I’ve found someone who’s speaking a particular language; bit aside, he’s signaling the key to changing your habits and your body: You have to be honest about the excuses you’re making. You have to work hard as hell. You have to be OK with a degree of discomfort and understand that accepting and adapting to it will make you better in every conceivable way. You can give yourself grace but you still need to push past your laziness when and how you can and go do things because that’s the only way things happen. No strain4, no gain. Have a go at yourself and you’ll feel better.
That’s just my opinion, man. Hop to the comments to discuss:
What do you think of the Mean Trainer style? Does it work for you, or do you hate it? Why?
Would you be likely to do a “Sort Your Fucking Life Out, Mate” list, or are you more of a Loving Vision Board person?
Who are the gentle, friendly neighborhood content creators you like, if that’s more your speed? Share with us!
I count myself among them!
I wrote in “Pushing is not punishing” about the difference between this and “no pain, no gain.”
I have personally found, after a lifetime of trying to shame myself into being different, that there’s a paradox at the heart of change. And I do have to radically accept myself as I am first before I can move into making changes. I have to soothe and connect with my inner child who is sabotaging my adult life. Paradoxically, once I thank her—and I mean with real, embarrassing, humiliating gratitude—for creating this chaos, she loosens her grip. Then I can step into doing something different, and we can put the old pattern into the archives. But there does have to be both steps for me. The gentleness followed by the changing habit. If I try to change without first honoring the old pattern I fail over and over again.
I’ve been working with a trainer for nearly two years to rehab from a broken kneecap. She’s IFBB pro and looks tough as hell but she’s more of the firm but gentle type with me. That’s because she understands that the biggest hurdle for me is psychological. My brain didn’t trust that my wounded leg could do things again. Hannah has given me the most valuable gift a trainer could give: she believed in me before I believed in myself. I think if she had been tough with me I would have felt really humiliated and defeated in the context of injury recovery. But if my body still had its factory settings? I think I’d respond to toughness from a trainer pretty well.
LOVE THIS and I’m with you!
I’ll never forget my first trainer. I was 20, signed up at Golds gym and can’t say how overweight or out of shape I was, but I can say NONE of my clothes fit and my metabolism was shot from doing speedy drugs and drinking too much. A day before I signed up, I found myself in tears, pulling all of my clothes out of the dresser and off the hangers, throwing them and screaming. I believe it’s what is referred to as being ‘unhinged’.
During our first session he showed me how to properly do squats and then asked me to do them.
After a few he said, it’s obvious that the only lifting you’ve been doing is lifting your ass off a couch.
Honestly, I found it funny and motivating BECAUSE IT WAS TRUE - I needed some straight talk.
I later told my boyfriend and he took much offense to it. It hadn’t crossed my mind that it was not nice or unprofessional.
I thought of this recently while talking to a client. They thanked me for my ‘cutting honesty’ because they not only need to hear it that way, they desperately want to change.
My words, the trainers words, hurt less than the pain caused by the current circumstances.