It is the nature of a woman to regret every bit of food she eats. It is the law of society.

So, when our monthly friend comes around and encourages us to eat all the Costco chocolate cake, naturally we are driven once again to our communal place of recovery, AKA the gym.

It is here we sweat. We reduce our size to attract potential mates or look less intimidating to our partners, biologically speaking, a portion of attraction comes from scent. What better way to grab a partner than through the ultimate smell of body odor after a seven-mile run? You can’t miss it.

It is here where we are at the peak of our attraction, where we wear our best leggings to emphasize our lack of muscle and weakness to the men lurking about.

Yes, we may wear shirts that say, “I’d rather be doing burpees than doing you” or “I’m interested … in you leaving me alone,” but they are mere ploys. Elements of the hard-to-get technique. Our outfits, combined with ignoring you completely, display our mastery of this technique.

And, guys, when you feel particularly nervous about hitting on us, don’t worry. Just about everything we do is an open invitation for you to hand us your number or fix our form.

However, too many people work to prevent this. Feminists argue that women are in support of us being lonely old ladies, arguing that there is more to a woman than her figure, her pretty hair, her immaculate makeup, her perfected gym outfit. They act as if women go to the gym for their health, of all things. Or even taking it far out of proportion to say that we’re actually athletes in some cases.

Men who have some odd deformity of decency leave us alone, as if we were at the gym for ourselves and not for them. As if their mothers didn’t teach them that this was how they truly met their father — through the chaos of grunting lifters and elliptical queens.

These movements completely destroy the delicate dynamic of obtaining a sexual partner who enjoys the blotchy face of overachievement and fierce body odor. This is a swift middle finger to our reproductive process. The monsters.

Let’s be real, weight machines like the Hack Squat Machine or the Smith Machine are twisted creatures with hardly any instruction to them. The stickers on the side are too complicated for our glitter-infused brains, and besides, we are too weak to use them with any setting over 10 pounds. Dumbbells are even more intimidating, too heavy and do not come in pink. A tragedy. Best to stick to the treadmills.

Ultimately, we women have a purpose, and that purpose is to attract. To be the objects of men’s affections, to be that pretty thing at their side. The gym is not the only place we attract potential suitors. We take advantage of the communal environments of our jobs, shopping for groceries and trying to read on the train or the bus. The sky is barely the limit here — we have so many options to choose from. It all depends on what kind of man you want.

But I definitely want a gym meat-head, and I won’t let anyone mess that up for me.