March 11, 2004

experience at a gymnasium

*long entry, don’t bitch*

My knee still ails whenever I tried to sprint. The physiotherapy helped a lot, but not to the extend of 100%. According to the physiotherapist, I’ll need to grow some muscles back to support my knee … to be able to fully recuperate. And to grow back the support muscles, I’ll have to exercise my leg – focusing on the knee area. But, that was fucking ironic – how do I exercise when my knee is in pain? And when I don’t exercise, the muscles won’t build and my knee will remain as painful as ever. It’s like a chicken/egg situation. I have to find a way to exercise my knee.

That was why I joined the gym. I’ve never joined a gym before in my life. I never really fancied to be a beefcake. Beefcakes give me bad impressions that they are intellectually slow. But I have no choice this time – I need to improve my medical condition… else, I will never get to play soccer again.

My first day at the gym was pretty ok. There was an instructor there to guide me – you know – how to use those beefcake doohickeys. Some of them looked so ridiculously complex that I actually thought that they’re the same thing they used to scour for lifeforms at Mars. It was alright. I did what I had to do and I felt good about it.

The second session was more interesting. I began to notice that there were several knockout pretty girls who frequented there as well. Maybe the gym isn’t such a bad place after all – I thought. I went on with my running, cycling and other exercises that focuses on my pair of legs. But after I’ve worked for about an hour or so, in came a bunch of guys with big biceps (aka beefcakes), beckoning for attentions with their big size and all. They looked at me as if I was some green guy from another galaxy, and then each of them changed into their body revealing attire.

A typical group of arrogant & snobbish beefcakes. I fucking hated them. So what if they have a body the size of a fully grown gorilla? That would only mean that their dick would be shorter than average to compensate for the muscles they’ve built. (which probably would be of no use at all)

I ignored them and went on with my business… until one of them came over to the section that I was in to pull some weight. It was just right in front of me. That was when I noticed something not very right about that beefcake. The guy had a set of big arms… big chest… and 8 packs. Obviously, with one look, he seemed to be quite well proportioned… but after some careful observation, I noticed that his pair of legs were very tiny! Like a bird’s legs ! And when I took a look around the room, I noticed that all the beefcakes have motherfucking tiny legs!

You see, the most important part of a man’s body (other than the dick and brain), would be his pair of legs. It must be muscular and hairy. A pair of good legs can determine your level of virility. But those bunch of beefcakes, despite having such a well built body, they somehow did not bother to work on their legs, and as a result of that, it kind of accentuated the sorry state of their legs – scrawny, fair and full of green veins. From far, these beefcakes look like pieces of soap impaled on a pair of toothpicks.

Seeing that those guys like to show off their body so much, I did the same thing back to them with my legs (FYI, my legs are approximately 60% more muscular and hairier than theirs, pffff.) – I pulled my bermuda shorts higher (errm, trust me, this isn’t as gay as you may have thought), and flaunted my ass kicker assets… at the same time, broadcasted this telepathic message – “Fear the wrath of my crotch stomper, you sissies with puny legs”.

And those ‘cakes dared not to lift any weight within the 10 feet radius around me after that. (ok, I made that up, it was actually 8 feet).

Never felt better.

michaelooi  | what I saw  | 

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