i want to know why
i want to touch every piece of ronnie coleman’s ungodly physique (except for his penis and ass). i want to slide my hands down the veined gorges of his thighs, count the taut cable of firm muscle that’s knitted like fabric across his wide pecs and watch his abs rise and fall while he sleeps, breathing soundly on his back. as i watched smeared footage of him casually lifting in an empty gym i paused the video and stared at his body for longer than i did at van gogh’s The Starry Night.
by contrast, i cannot imagine touching even the shoulder of the world’s fattest woman, let alone her rancid vagina. (when a personality is buried beneath a hide of grotesque velvet the effort of looking past that person’s self inflicted affliction is multiplied by their cholesterol.) the feminine form that is typically attractive to me is also past recognition in female bodybuilders, whom i also find repulsive, though their motivation is admirable. (i would touch slightly more than a shoulder.)
but even if sexuality is a sliding scale, i do not believe a corporeal curiosity changes mine by a single shade. ronnie coleman is a man offended by the word small, and has crafted a lifestyle and a career separating himself from that word as much as possible. this is an obsession that should be admired up close, in person…like a great work of art. despite how small his flaccid penis might look when nestled between two 36 inch thighs, calling any part of ronnie coleman small is also calling yourself a fool.
before all of my role models were replaced by body builders i clicked down a tunnel of overindulgent, obese morons lamenting their bodily prisons while lapping up McDonald’s burritos and ice cream cones. (did anyone else know McDonald’s had a burrito?) my lighthearted flaneur through this internet tunnel went deeper than i expected, past the sappy narratives of TLC docs and into silent, scrolling sessions of lymphedema galleries.
i ate donuts and leftover outback while watching the pasty, clammy physiques of the morbidly obese being rinsed by their beloved enablers when recommended videos changed my course and guided me towards the other end of the ungodly body spectrum.
my meanderings lead to a watershed scene in a documentary of four time mr. olympia jay cutler getting his back shaved like a lion being prepped for surgery. i screenshotted images of ronnie coleman between flexes, watching every human muscle pop vigorously from the spaces between the “regular muscles” average people recognize. i ate another donut and watched boston lloyd reveal his steroid stack in a 29 min diary detailing the cause of his transformation from stocky, dilettante to shredded freak. when i finally had the sense to compare these physiques to arnold’s mr. olympia winning physique from the 70s i instantly noticed the difference between godly and ungodly physiques. (i was still faced with an urge to grope them all simultaneously.)
today’s mr. olympia competitors are chemists that hunger for hugeness. although arnold is as immortal as the Gods he succeeded in emulating naturally, the era of the competitive godly physique has passed. i never gave a shit about the use of steroids in sports because i was never a sports fan, but the specious argument that “men were never supposed to get this big on their own” disregards the daily, intense training that is still mandatory for the steroids to enhance their user’s performance. steroids are not a miracle drug; they are not for the uncommitted. research is required and options are endless. boston loyd’s 29 min stack diary is a kernel of the proof of steroid’s intricacies. i care about bodybuilding as a sport, and i believe that modern tools do not negatively affect the ethics of being a winner. if steroids were banned, and bodybuilders caught using them were disqualified, they still did the right thing in doing more than everything they could to make themselves as huge as possible. as a fan, there is no such thing as too much muscle, and if arnold was training for the mr. olympia title today the good lord knows he would be juicin’.
as the sun dawned on me so did the realization that YouTube recommended bodybuilding videos alongside the obesity videos to provide two contrasting examples of ungodly physiques, suggesting that the living sculpture of bodybuilding were as genetically enhanced as the bulbous folds of the pathetic obese. bodybuilders work out using steroids, and the obese loaf around eating GMOs filled with preservatives. if a person is committed to getting big/staying big i don’t think it’s wrong for science to lend a helping hand, regardless of how repulsed a prude becomes. let people become what they want, how they want, with all the “help” they are willing to accept, and that should also include free adderall scripts for undergrads.