This is Michael Karolchyk. He owns a gym in Denver that is somewhat atypical. It has numerous slogans, from "Too chubby; Never find a hubby," to "Have Sex With The Lights On" to "Save The Chubbitos" to "No Chubbies." It also has numerous amenities, including "live DJs, cage dancers, and our elite co-ed Ravish Room." The Ravish Room turns out to be a sauna that admits only members who have reached a sufficiently low body mass index, but you also have to be screened to so much as join his gym, where motivational techniques include having cupcakes hurled at you on the treadmill, through a questionnaire filled with queries like "Would you rather have your ideal body or an extra $50,000 a year?" and it's called the Anti-Gym, maybe because he sees himself as a sort of Antichrist, though he also sees himself as a sort of vital American prophet, as you can witness on this clip where he tells the Mike & Juliet Show about watching footage of the Newark race riots and having the epiphany that America had gotten fat in the intervening years as white Americans like himself moved out of cities and into suburban enclaves like Denver, where by the way his gym is located on a street called "Columbine."
Anyway, so yes, to answer your question, he is one of those people who we should probably be ignoring, especially in the midst of a writer's strike, because he's one of those people who conducts his life like the host of a reality show and we all know where that leads, but I am a mere human and I know better than to question the inexorable onward thrust of the country's obsession with its weight. And all of us, at some point in our lives, have known a Michael Karolchyk, one of those chubby kids who maybe blamed it on his fat mother — which is why he is now championing legislation that will criminalize feeding kids junk food despite his supposed anti-big government bent? — and to make matters worse, got dissed by a girl in high school who let herself go a little bit after graduation while he got leaner and meaner and suddenly he thinks he's some sort of Highly Effective Person. And while I'm not a big believer in "tough love," since hating yourself for being fat is usually the quickest route to staying fat, I think the Michael Karolchyks of this world need a bit of it, so here I go:
The only sort of person who would trade the body of their dreams over an extra $50,000 a year is probably, like yourself, so mentally and emotionally disturbed that the body of their dreams would look, well, like yours, or the female equivalent. Which is to say pumped full of anger and protein shakes and pent-up suburban angst and addicted to the sort of mindless, pointless activities you're too dumb to realize are actually a pitch-perfect microcosm for the cliched suburban human condition that made everyone so fat and mad in the first place.