Cruelty in dessert form

It's hard to go to the gym. Even though I know I enjoy it, the motivation it takes to actually decide to go is phenomenal in itself. 

You know what makes it harder? Cheesecake.

There is a cafe at the entrance to my gym. It opened not long ago, and started out selling healthy wraps and yoghurts and a variety of salads. The muffins appeared a few months ago and the friands not long after. The salads are taking up noticeably less shelf space. Today, there was cheesecake. 

Is this not one of the cruellest things to sell at a gym cafe? Assailing me in both directions: as I come in (vowing to run off last night's dinner), and as I leave (vowing not to immediately replace the calories I just burned).

I mean, I thought the vending machines with chocolate and chips right next to the treadmills were fucking enough to contend with, but now cheesecake? I can't take it. And the girl really  took her time making the fifty billion coffees for all the people ahead of me, so I stood in line and watched that cheesecake for about fifteen minutes. 

Obviously this is a conspiracy: 

"Eat cheesecake! Oh damn, now you need another six month's gym membership, what a shame." 

Bloody capitalist parasites.