It's Friday night and I'm laid naked in bed waiting for him to join me. He's stood in front of the mirror doing a front double biceps and asking “is the right one peakier than the left?” I wouldn't mind but next week when he's back on the juice I'll be fighting him off, listening to such witticisms as “come on love, my testicles think my dick's been cut off!”
Such is the life of a bodybuilder's spouse!
I've always liked 'big' men; when I was seven I used to pretend I was married to Geoff Capes, and as a little girl I would measure a mans suitability on how strong he was…could he lift more than my Dad?…if not I wasn't interested! Of course I didn't realize then that to be so strong a man had to train and diet and make commitments, that he had to make sacrifices and that in turn, as his significant other, I'd have to put up with being “Mrs Bodybuilder”
Being married to a bodybuilder can be a full time job in itself, the hours I've spent grilling and cutting up chicken, but you know, it's more than a job, it's a lifestyle, a bit like being a parent; you don't get a day off.
When my son was a baby we'd go for a Saturday afternoon out, of course that meant filling the car with the buggy, the changing bag, two bottles, a jar of baby food a change of clothes; and of course a huge cool box to store at least three meals of chicken and rice, a tub of protein powder, a bottle of water, a shaker and a boxful of supplements that had to be taken at a certain times. Then of course we could only plan activities with no walking because Friday was leg day and his legs hurt! That was just for an afternoon, going away for a weekend is like planning a military operation.
My son Josh (whose middle name is Arnold) loves having a bodybuilder for a dad, he used to point at models of the Incredible Hulk and say “Daddy” but he's learned better now, he can name the Hulk, and Arnold, Dorian Yates, and Ronnie Coleman. He doesn't know who Bob the Builder is though because Daddy's watching workout videos during cbeebies; in fact I think Josh thinks that there's a bodybuilding channel on TV.
He's too young to have brought any friends home yet; I'm looking forward to how we explain Daddy's bizarre lifestyle to them. But I should be used to it by then, after all I have to explain to my friends often enough why he can't miss the gym and answer questions like “does he use anabolic steroids?” (I usually say “why don't you ask him”) and of course decline dinner invites unless they are in the off-season.
I'm learning about the off-season now, it's when “lets pop out for a bite to eat” actually means “let's spend every afternoon in Pizza Hut Buffet” But the great thing is it's that oh too short time of the year when we can actually sit down as a family and enjoy a meal together. II live for the off season when food is enjoyed rather than weighed, measured and forced down in front of MT rather than at the dinner table with me.
Family time is great, and my hubby makes sure we get plenty of it, we get loads of family outings, never mind the zoo and the science museum, we've got the exciting day trips to bodybuilding shows because “…you'll never guess who's guest posing!!!” Still I guess not every woman is forced to spend the day looking at almost naked fit men by her husband, that's the upside. Speaking of family, after seven years of marriage I think my family are starting to get the hint, my mother no longer begins every conversation with “I hope he doesn't use creatine because I read in the Daily Mail that you can die from it” and my sister no longer says “eugh” every time she sees him or one of the many posters on his wall. When I first tried to explain to my mother what a bodybuilder was I told her “Arnold Schwarzenegger Mum, he wants to look like that” she replied “but Les will never look like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Arnold Schwarzenegger has a neck!”
Then of course, there's all the paraphernalia; it costs a fortune for food, protein, supplements, gym subs, Muscular Development subscriptions (and of course Broadband to use MT) and after I've forked out for it, I have to find somewhere to store it. My house is awash with bottles of this that and the other, smelly gym kit, weight belts, straps for lifting (I don't mind them too much though!) and sacks of protein powder which are a pain when spilt. Protein powder wouldn't be so bad if he didn't insist on leaving shakers with it in the bottom by the bed, in the car, in his gym bag, by the sink, by his chair in the lounge, etc. I'll be trying to relax in front of the TV when there'll be this awful smell like somebody died and I can guarantee that if it's not an old shaker, it's one of his “protein shake farts”
As mentioned earlier I'm enjoying the off season right now, which is also a welcome break from low-carbs. Chances are that if he's low carbing I'm thinking I should perhaps tell him to get out of the chair he's been wedged in since he got home from the gym four hours ago, but he's got that look on his face which suggests I'll get a right good shouting at if I do. It's like living with a hormonal teenager one minute and a senile old geezer the next…”where did I put my car keys again…?”
Yes my life is a tight schedule around gym opening hours and mealtimes; I get stared at as I hold hands with my husband as I walk down the street and my family think at best that he's weird. If I'm not fighting him off with a stick I'm gagging on the smell of his protein powder or watching him pose in the mirror whilst reassuring him “yes you do look bigger and leaner than last week.” My son thinks that Ronnie Coleman is a kids TV character and my aunties haven't yet figured out that my son's middle name isn't really after my Granddad.
If I'd realized when I was seven that this would be my life with a bodybuilder would I have made more effort to fancy New Kids on the Block instead?... Not for one minute!!