My Cousin Thought Bitcoin Was a Fitness App

It all started with a single word: Crypto.

I mentioned it casually during a family dinner. Just a passing comment about checking the Bitcoin market, and before I could finish, my cousin Zain’s ears perked up like a golden retriever hearing the word “walk.”

“Bro,” he said, eyes wide, “Is that the new gym app?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Crypto,” he repeated confidently, “Short for Cardio Ripped Total Power, right?”

I choked on my roti.

Zain, bless his soul, is a himbo. A sweet guy with big biceps and a brain running on 2G. The kind of guy who thinks "Elon Musk" is a cologne brand and that NFTs are just "non-fat toast."

So naturally, he jumped into action before I could correct him.

The next morning, he posted a selfie in our family WhatsApp group with the caption:

“Day 1 of Crypto Training 💪🔥 #BitcoinBurn”

In the picture, he was holding a 2-liter bottle of water like a dumbbell and wearing a t-shirt that said “Invest in Yourself”.

My aunt immediately replied, “Beta this is so healthy, keep it up! But don’t overdo the bit-coins, they’re not good for the kidneys.”

I decided to watch the chaos unfold instead of stopping it.

Over the next few days, Zain became a crypto fitness influencer—at least in his own head.

He downloaded three different apps he thought were "crypto workout programs." One of them was an actual crypto tracker. The second was a step counter. The third was a scammy app called FitBitCoin with a dumb slogan: “Get Rich. Get Ripped. Get Rugged.”

He interpreted everything literally.

When the app said "Mining in progress," he started digging in the backyard.

When it said “Buy the dip,” he started doing push-ups and yelled, “I’m buying the dip, bro! Triceps day!”

By day 5, he was mixing protein powder with Red Bull “for faster blockchains.”

By day 7, he created an Instagram page called @CryptoPhysique and posted a video doing squats while yelling, “To the moon, baby!”

It somehow got 1,200 likes.

That’s when it got dangerous.

He told my uncle he was going to “invest everything in Dogecoin’s muscular resistance.” My uncle, being just as clueless, thought it was some kind of joint supplement and offered to match his investment.

They were about to send ₨150,000 to a fake Telegram group called CryptoFitArmy when I finally had to step in.

“Zain,” I said seriously, “You’re not gaining crypto. You’re just losing brain cells.”

He looked confused. “So... Bitcoin doesn’t have calories?”

“No.”

“And Dogecoin doesn’t strengthen your core?”

“No, bro. It strengthens memes.”

His eyes widened like I had just told him Santa wasn’t real. “So what have I been doing all week?”

I showed him a real crypto chart. He stared at the red candlesticks for a moment and whispered, “Bro... I thought this was a pulse monitor.”

The moment of clarity hit hard. He stared into space, towel around his neck, muttering:

“I almost took financial advice from a guy named CryptoZaddy69.”

To save face, he pivoted. Rebranded himself as a “financial wellness coach” and started posting workout videos titled:

“Stretch Like Ethereum”

“Squatcoin: The Only Dip You Should Buy”

“10 Ways to Keep Your Portfolio and Glutes Tight”

Somehow, he now has 3,500 followers, sponsors from two herbal supplement brands, and a podcast called “Buff on the Blockchain.”

Last week, he walked into the room wearing sunglasses and said, “Bro, I got invited to a Web3 gym startup. We do yoga on the blockchain.”

I don’t even know what that means anymore.

But I’ve stopped questioning it.

Zain may never understand crypto—but at this rate, he’s going to be the first person to get a six-pack because of Bitcoin confusion.

And honestly?

Respect.