joburger

So, after two and a half years away from gym, I hit the weights for the first time last night. I've been doing push ups, sit ups and some light weight exercises at home for four weeks now, in a pathetic attempt to provide my body with some conditioning. Sadly, nothing quite prepares you for what happens when three muppets congregate within a room they've dedicated to the purpose of moving heavy chunks of metal in linear motions to the dulcet sounds of some rousing motivational assistance, something along the lines of "COME ON YOU DOE EYED LIMP WRISTED BUNNY HUGGING HANDBAG LOVER! PUSH THE FUCKING THING! ONE MORE! COME ON! EVEN A FUCKING CARDIGAN LOVING QUILT SEWING STAMP LICKING FUCKTARD LIKE YOU CAN GIVE ME ONE...FUCKING...MORE...". And that was me shouting at myself.

Needless to say, despite the fact that it feels like someone ripped out my pecs with a pair of hot pliers and filled the resulting cavities with thermite and alien war ants from hell, I feel fucking amazing. Having mates along who watch your form and shit you out when it begins to bail helps wonders.

Hopefully within a couple of months, I'll be able to shower without having to run around to get wet, and when I lift my arms, no longer fall through my own asshole. I'll also have the kind of physique I want to plaster to some more ink on, because I at the moment, I refuse to spoil great ink by plastering it on this cadaver I lurch around in at the moment.