The Beast

This is the cause of all my misery. Well not all of it. But a good chunk of it. I have been meaning to take pics of the Beast to put on here, but he stupidly told me about some of his competition shots that are available online. Evidently, he is in a bunch of competition videos, but I get enough live-action Beast to make me not have to see that. I am floored by these shots.


Can you believe the size of this man? He does not compete now--he says he is too old--but these pics are not that old. He told me he was about 3% fat when he was competing. As low as that sounds, I do not know where he is hiding that fat. Now, he is 9% he says. I am not telling you how much I am.


I cannot imagine the dedication this takes. When I told him today that I used to not be able to tie my shoes because I was too fat, he told me he could not either. I could not figure that out, but he demonstrated how limited he was in movement because of the muscles. Seeing these pics, I can see how. At his highest weight, he was 55 pounds higher than he is now, which put him over 300 pounds of solid muscle. Can you imagine?

I cannot wait to make fun of him over these pics, but I am glad I saw them, as it gives me an idea of how hard he worked to get there. And that he is not just a stupid beauhunk, but really good at being sensitive to me and my hangups, and a good teacher, is really cool. I cannot believe that I am comfortable enough with anyone, let alone my freaking trainer, to stand there and take the gut size check like I do with him, is freaky to me. But I do. All the time.
Tomorrow he is voting on whether I am ready to wear a shirt tucked in. I know he will tell me the truth. I feel good, but I know the rest of the world sees me as a fat girl--and I still am. But I think I am almost ready.

And I hope to sweet Jesus he does not find out I put these pics on here, as he is liable to squash me.