On my way to the bus station I passed by a big toilet shop window and did what many victims of the lifting game do – I started scanning my reflection for abnormal muscle development. I had to keep it short because people working in the store started looking at me like I have just called their fat mother fat. I stepped to the side fast and continued forward thinking how deep this muscle venom has spread into my head.
The mentioned activity could be a rather harmful and even self-destructive habit. Nevertheless, it’s really difficult to stop when your mind has been working on a muscle appreciating frequency for so long. As anticipated, I didn’t find much aberrant muscle on me but at least all that I have is still working perfectly fine and is all mine. Never better!
Later, I found myself on the local bus, which offers an experience that makes you question the importance of your existence on this planet. The temperatures felt tropical and the lack of fresh air started testing my patience. My frustration was increased even further because my mafioso sun glasses were not with me. The sun could be cruel.
I turned my head to the left and saw a man with huge muscles holding a beige chihuahua. Then I looked to the other side while my overheated brain was still slowly processing this otherworldly image.
Wait, what the hell was that?
I didn’t realize I have seen a walking muscle monument until a few seconds later. At that point, I immediately redirected my lasers towards this peculiar subject who was simply begging to be analyzed by a critical mind.
The guy was a typical captain upper body. He had it all – enormous arms coupled with invisible calves smaller than his forearms. Logically, he was a generation shaved legs child and had a Renaissance style haircut too. Somewhat ironically, the guy was using his incredibly muscular arms to hold a small dog – chihuahua. The way I see it, chihuahuas are dogs suffering from severe small dick complex. They compensate for it with endless barking. I can see why bodybuilders can be attracted to similar animals.
On his colorful tank top was written Ibiza House Party. I guess this muscle hero was also going to different pool parties to showcase his muscle fibers. His memorable styling was complete by a classic black fanny pack and cotton boy scout pants. I would bet a lot of money that the whole bus was feeling this guy’s aroma too. It was one of those provocative perfumes, which have one main goal – to tell everybody you are using it. Now that I think about it, it smelled like apple cider mixed oranges.
Needless to say, this dude was also wearing Men In Black style sunglasses, half-socks and was constantly banging on a 10 inch phablet. Maybe he was a DJ scheduling a house party or his next steroid purchase? I have no idea. What I knew with certainty right away is that the guy was a landmark.
While I am used to bodybuilding and its weird images, this guy made me wonder how ordinary people see bodybuilders and lifters in general. Individuals like this certainly don’t negate the popular belief that bodybuilders are shallow metrosexual meatheads, trying to compensate for their insecurities by building enormous amount of muscle mass and putting it all on display.
Then, the lawyer voice in my head woke up and we started arguing:
“People have the right to do as they please with their bodies. Don’t you get it? I knew you never finished college, but are you really that stupid? This guy has the right to walk around in adult diapers or mankini if he desires so. Who are you to tell him what to do? Hatin’ much?
“Nice try, motherfucker! I understand that people have the right to do whatever they want to their bodies, but I also have the right to say what I think about it. Forgot about free speech?”
“Why do you think your opinion is so important?”
“If my opinion wasn’t important, why do I get so many hate messages. Why do they bother talking to me?”
“Because you are a hater talking nonsense?”
“Try harder. I prefer to think it’s because truth hurts.”
The mental gymnastics inside my brain were going to continue for a long time, but the muscle champ and his chihuahua friend were getting ready to get off at the next stop. The man locked his phablet and proudly put it in his Porsche fanny pack, which he was holding suspiciously tight. Nobody is that attached to a fanny pack unless it contains something really special. My guess is that he had some expensive kind of growth hormone in it, but that’s pure speculation. I can’t possibly know that, can I?
Then, he grabbed the dog by the chin and turned its head towards his. They almost kissed but not quite. This is when that popular song Love Is All Around decided to return out of nowhere in my brain, which has been subject to incredible movie and TV brainwashing for years. I am still recovering slowly. This experience was kinda ridiculous because at that time I was actually listening to a bass boosted remix of a 2PAC song entitled Black Hawk Down, which I downloaded from YouTube a few months ago.
Anyway, the guy started walking towards the exit when the amazing happened. Since he was holding the dog in a semi-curl position, his vascular D-bol loaded biceps were flexed to the fullest. This got the attention of the passengers close to him. I was able to detect some serious appreciation coming from a girl that looked fairly attractive and smart enough to play Solitaire. Until now she was exercising her thumbs through chatting on her iFone. However, once those guns got in her face, she couldn’t help but stop spreading bacteria over the small LCD screen. I believe I saw a subtle drop of her jaw too. It was just a few millimeters, but it was real. One could only speculate where this was headed if the circumstances were different.
Unfortunately or not, the guy was not loved by all passengers. There were some mixed feelings coming from the male dogs around. An old man looked at him from head to toe. His facial expression was clear: “You can’t fool me with your air muscles! Back in my day you had to be fat and eat ten pancakes a day be big and strong!”
Others, who were in the way, felt threatened by the passing gorilla. They kept their heads down and quickly moved away from the doors. I guess it was the self-preservation instinct in them talking. Big muscles are simply intimidating in the animal kingdom.
One nerd who was holding a laptop bag decided to beg the mean chihuahua for some love and touched it on the back of the head. In reality this was just a diversion from his real goal. He was actually tying to sign a piece contract with the muscle monster: “I am nice and love your dog so much. Please, don’t hammer me, Mr. Biceps!”
At the next stop the hulk from Ibiza and his dog got off. I looked out of the window to see where they were headed. The man was holding his dog like a trophy and walking like the whole world is his. I could see an invisible cage around him. It was the kind of personal prison we all have. It’s called your own little world.
In my eyes those few short moments revealed entirely how people see muscle maniacs – some love them, others see through the fake and many are simply scared of the size and prefer to keep their distance.