The first few weeks with my trainer was all about figuring each other out.  Initially, I thought she was a little soft on me.  There was also an element of ramping up my muscle use so I didn’t injure myself.  I wasn’t really feeling the burn. 

Last night she killed me. 

We’re doing four sets now–as opposed to three and doing things where you do 8 reps with 25 pounds, 10 reps with 20 and then 12 with 15 all without a rest.  I just know I look like the little girly man trembling, sweating and grunting with my two little 15 pound barbells but man, by the time you get to those last three reps, your muscles are like hamburger.  She stands behind me giving me that little extra boost at the end of my set.  Does that make her my hamburger helper?

My trainer asked me if I see anything yet to which I said no.  I do, however, feel things.  I woke up the other night laying on my stomach.  Something felt funny on my chest as if I were laying on something kind of firm.  I suddenly realized that it was my chest I was feeling.  It doesn’t look any different to me (yet) but it was all tight and stuff. 

I’m kind of liking the gym.  There is the one guy that works out there who’s young and very, very muscular.  He always says hello and is very encouraging.  His arms are about as thick as my thighs. 

I’ve been told that I have good form which is true.  I have always been very “body conscience”.  It’s comes from years of singing, performing, dance lessons and, well, being a fag.  To me weight training is all about form.  Slow deliberate movement.  That’s how you get the growth and definition. 

My trainer has encouraged me to attent the the local bodybuilding show in March.  She asked me if I would be interested in competitive bodybuilding.  She says that I have the right body type and framework.  I was really excited when she said that until I realized that she works there and aside from being a trainer, she is a bit of a salesperson as well. 

I don’t think I would like being a slave to my bod.  I like alcohol and food too much and I have too many other things to do that would keep me from being in a gym every single day.  Hey, who knows?  One thing is for sure, I’m not quitting.  I promised myself that I would make significant changes to the bod this year by the time summer comes.  

Wish me luck…

5 Thoughts on “She’s Starting To Kill Me

  1. I’ll come watch you compete. In a teeny-tiny thong and a spray on tan, shaved completely smooth.

  2. Just think… you are paying her to kill you. That makes you a little on the dark side.

  3. So Homer will be wearing a teeny tiny thong while he watches you compete? Hmm…

    Meanwhile, I think that you need ot photodocument your progress.

  4. I had planned something clever to write, but then I saw my spam-blocking comment read “superfluous prises”. Darn spam-blocker, it hypmotizes me.

    Wait – Homer’s going to shave?! “Completely smooth”!? Holy crap the world really IS going to hell in a hand-basket…

  5. Mmm. Muscles on Cobban.

    Eew. Teeny thong, shaving and fake tan.

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