December, 2nd, 2005 Friday

Muscle dysmorphia is a bitch. And it is a part of every bodybuilder’s life. If you train hard and your goal is to get big, odds are you see yourself as small. Damn. Everyone is telling me i'm growing big, but i constantly see myself as small. Why do I endeavor to be huge? What was it in my formative years that skewed my vision of the ideal human form? Was it He-Man? Was it the comic books? Those superhero shoulders? Those monstrous arms that hoist sick faggots like yaokun like a rag doll and smash him on the wall?

Something went wrong somewhere along the way. For sick faggots like yaokun, he turned into a sick perverted gay. But for me, somewhat seems wrong, seems to be right. I became a superhero, a people's champ, or something like that. Part of it comes from the fact that I seek balance. I’ve always seen myself as an intellectual, but I’ve always sought to have my exterior match my mind. I also think the outer shell serves as armor. It protects the inner nice guy. And indeed I am. Damn it, quit giggling or there'll be no more Mr Nice guy. It allows me to be a sheep in wolf’s clothing. As you progress, your goals change. I remember being an average joe of 64kg before all the blood, tears and sweat in and out of the weight room. 3 yrs flew by and I'm hitting the scales at 88kg.

Then I hit 90kg by another half yr's time. But quickly i knew i was way too heavy and puffy. So i dropped from 90 to 78 in a 4 months diet phase. Now, back to 83.5kg, which i manage to put on 5kg in 1 1/2. I looked much better. Everyone in the gym is telling me i looked much better, and i was quite satisfied with the fact.

Every blood dripping rep, every teeth grinding set. That drive, that desire. That need to be better… To never be satisfied. It’s both a gift and a curse. What’s 90kg gonna look like again? I’ll let you know when I get there.