Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the most muscular of them all?



Или рассказ о том, кто здоровее...

Yet again I have waited far too long to update my blog. There is no good reason for this, apart from the fact I always think I will write something on Sunday and, well, you can see how that goes.
In fact, I’m starting to write this at work, simply because I love distracting myself. I have had plenty of stuff happen in the past month. This one happened in the gym on Monday and I thought it would make a good little update.

So I have just finished my reasonably intense training session and turned my Kylie Minogue pump inspiration mix off when Zhenya comes into the changing room.

cue rape scene

After completing my manly taste in music that I wasn't really listening we got to slightly awkward forced locker-room conversation. I was still getting changed and couldn’t exactly ignore him.
Now Zhenya is about 45 and about my height, which is, alas, 5’7 (did somebody say slightly-under-average-height, dark and handsome?) 
I start by asking how his training is going and he replies: not so well.
I nod emphatically, secretly not really giving a shit

This
Then he asks me about my training. I say things are going ok, weight is going up and getting a stronger etc and which point he asks me my weight.
At about 77-78kg, it appears me and him are the same weight, which is when the awkwardness kicks in. 
He commented that I was probably more muscular than him (at this point I’m in my towel, trying to get to the shower). This is clearly bothering him enough that he grabbed the first guy that came through the door and asked, (making me stand next to him) who was bigger/more muscular.

And there I am, in my towel, next to a 45 year old Ukrainian man who is harassing some guy to do an impromptu body judging session.

The first guy was a bit reluctant to comment, as you can imagine so Zhenya, unsatisfied with this, goes and gets the trainer, explaining: "Now here's someone who knows what they're talking about"

“right, we’re about the same weight, so has the better body?”
“he does”

And then the trainer offers up some suggestions that I could have wider bone structure or some bollocks  of that sort (of course possible, but I didn’t exactly win the bodybuilding-genetics lottery). Then I think some defensive reaction kicked in and Zhenya began to justify why his shoulders weren’t as wide as mine (I’m really not some big muscle guy, shit, if you put a T-shirt on me you’d probably have trouble guessing that I so much as looked at a weight).

His key argument was that he didn’t lift any weights, just did cardio and stuff - which is a fine argument. I often argue that if I decided to buy a race car I would be an amazing race-car driver who would collect snizz like it was going out of fashion. 
But of course, instead of getting that mad race-car pussy, I'm writing a blog post....
To his credit, he did say that he had been doing martial arts training recently and that he would probably be better than me at that. And of course, if he did life weights then he would progress with the utmost speed.


This kid would rock the world of bodybuilding. Better just hope he doesn't 'decide' to become the world's strongest man

Meanwhile, I’m still in my fucking towel waiting to shower. Finally, after a short extra bit of interrogation about my job and how much money I make, I got to the shower. Interestingly enough, he asked: do you make 1700 Euros a month?
I have no idea about Euro conversions. I know what I make in roubles and that covers me getting drunk on the weekends, buying lube (and other essentials) and my rent.  
I suppose when you have sub-par shoulders, you can always fall back on your salary...

As one last gambit he caught me on the way out (already fully showered and dressed) and tried to get me to give his daughter English lessons (over about the past year I've refused on at least three times to teach his kid). Sorry, fuck that, see ya later Zhenya.
Good luck with the shoulders.

The changing room can be full of adventures.


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