blog #2

The time had come, I just became what you could call “buds” with a fellow I met not too long ago.  Sitting in his basement playing “vids” or video games like most guys my age do, we both decided it was time to pre-funk and get ready to go out for the night.  After a few minutes of pounding shots of booze I catch a glimpse of something in the corner of my eye; another one of his buddies is over on a bench press machine!  Of course I have to go take a closer look at this gear that makes your muscles bulge and pecks show through your shirt.  I see that “the dude” is struggling trying to lift this bar with round weights on it up in the air so I figure maybe I should give it a try.  Although it may seem I was trying to look impressive by lifting this massive load of weights, I assure you it was for pure self-satisfaction. 

I laid down on the sweaty padded bench, put my hands on the bar, took deep breaths in and out like I knew what I was doing, and prayed I could lift it.  At this point I really felt like I could lift it, like I could take it and throw it through the ceiling, probably because it didn’t look like it weighed much though, or maybe it was the alcohol making me a bit delusional. All I was missing in my pre-lifting routine was the gallon of water sitting next to my bench.  Other than that I felt I was as prepared as a professional weight lifter.

This is where my thought and confidence changed, one hundred percent. I cannot back out now; I would look like a fool.  I start to lift the weight off the hook.  So far, so good. I bring the bar down to my chest just like I have seen at the rec center.  I start to push upward, almost fully extending my arms, and realize I cannot throw the bar through ceiling. Instead I have decided to lower the bar back down, but this time it did not smoothly come down to meet my chest. My chin takes control. It is my superhero! It jumped in front of the bar and took one for the team.  If it had not been there the bar probably would have landed right on my jugular. 

So my new “bud” lifts the bar off my chin and I get up and feel around my mouth not knowing it had been badly split.  All I was hoping was I still had all my teeth.  Realizing blood was coming out of my “chlip”(area in-between lip and chin) I ran to the bathroom, rinsed it off, put Neosporin on it, and bandaged it right up.  I know, it sounds like I know what I am doing and you want to ask if I work at a hospital, but I clearly do not since a firefighter at the big festivity we later attended inspected my “chlip” and came to a conclusion it should surely get stitches. My delusion of being a great weight lifter and my bad choice to not go to the hospital for stitches is why I have the scar on my “chlip” today.

And that’s why you don’t try to lift more weight than your muscles allow.