NYE with a Muscle Angel (part 1 of 2)

The moment Sebastian walked through the hotel’s tall glass doors, he immediately went to look for the bar.

“God, I’m so nervous,” he mutters under his breath. “I need a fucking drink before she arrives. I can’t stand it.”

He passes by a beautiful water fountain featuring several stone dolphins doing some sort of ballet dance together. It may not be the kind of art that he’d like sitting around his house, but at this particularly swanky downtown hotel, it’ll do. He amuses himself watching the water gushing out of the dolphin’s mouths, as if they have a perpetual projectile vomiting problem that refuses to go away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a bright neon sign that says “Stratosphere Bar & Lounge.” Sebastian makes a beeline straight there and finds an open stool. Tonight, Sebastian is on a date. Even though he knows the woman he’s about to meet, he cannot help but feel a crippling level of anxiety at what’s about to happen. Not only has he not been in the dating pool for years (he and his ex-wife divorced a year ago after twelve years of marriage), but the lady he’s about to go on a date with is…

…a professional bodybuilder.

For the past decade or so, Alyson has been one of the country’s top competitive female bodybuilders. She’s won multiple contests across the world, earning accolades from celebrities like Arnold Schwarzenegger and Ronnie Coleman and corporate endorsements from most of the top athletic apparel and vitamin supplement companies. She may not be a major “celebrity” in the traditional sense, but Alyson is well known if you pay attention to the niche little world that is professional bodybuilding. She’s a superstar within this community. Sebastian, who isn’t normally interested in the sport itself, has watched her career blossom from a distance.

Sebastian, to his credit, knew she was destined for stardom. They briefly dated back in high school. Back then, she was a swimmer. He interviewed her for the school newspaper (Sebastian was the editor-in-chief of the school’s weekly journal) and they hit it off right away. The moment he first saw her, he could not take his eyes off her finely sculpted body. And, after chatting with her for his newspaper article, it became clear that she possessed a determined spirit that few could say they have. Whether she chose to pursue swimming for the rest of her life or some other athletic pursuit, Sebastian knew she’d become a superstar no matter what path she travels. It was her destiny to achieve greatness.

One fateful night, a few weeks after they started dating, they even took each other’s virginities. It was the night before her family moved across the country to North Carolina. Alyson’s father was in the military and the post-9/11 War on Terror was in full swing. Knowing this would be their final few moments together before she moved out of his life forever, they decided this would be the time they “lose it.” Together. On their own terms. She snuck into his bedroom a few minutes past midnight and tried to make love as quietly as possible so Sebastian’s parents wouldn’t wake up.

It was an incredibly embarrassing moment for Sebastian – he came about twenty seconds after entering her – but nobody said life would follow a storybook formula. It certainly hasn’t for him, at least not of late. She didn’t come close to orgasming, though she still felt happy that she was able to lose her virginity to a boy she genuinely loved. After she moved to the east coast, they spoke on the phone a few times here and there…but they eventually moved on and stopped communicating once they both entered college. And that was that, as they say. Until tonight.

“What’ll it be, my friend?” The kindly bartender asks. This snaps Sebastian out of his trip down memory lane. His Eastern European accent is hard to pinpoint. Sebastian guesses he’s Polish, though he’s more than open to the fact that he could be dead wrong. He could be Russian, for all he knows.

“I’ll have some Glenlivet 12, neat, please.”

“Coming right up, sir. Are you with the party over in the ballroom?” The bartender points to a large banner hanging up over the ballroom entrance that reads “Blue River Group New Year’s Eve Party.” Sebastian shakes his head.

“No, sir. That’s not me. I’m here on a date. Yeah, it’s unusual to go on a date with someone on New Year’s Eve, but that’s the way it is.” He winks at the bartender, who has already turned his back to retrieve a clean whiskey glass and a bottle of opened Glenlivet 12.

“Good luck, buddy. If I see a lone lass walking in here, I’ll be sure to direct her to sit right next to you.” He grins at his customer.

“I appreciate it.” Sebastian takes a lone sip of his drink and savors the rich full-bodied flavor. “Oh, and trust me. You’ll notice her when she walks in. She, uh, hard to miss. To put it mildly.”

The bartender gives Sebastian a coy look of genuine curiosity. “Huh. What do you mean by that, friend?”

“You’ll see.” Sebastian smiles. This answer seems to satisfy the bartender, who resumes his task of slicing and juicing limes.

Wearing white khakis, a charcoal grey sports coat, and a bright white tie to match, Sebastian is dressed well enough so that no one can accuse him of phoning it in, but he’s not dressed so well that Alyson might feel awkward if she’s not dressed equally well. If he recalls correctly, Alyson isn’t the type who likes to play “dress up.” She’s more comfortable wearing sweatpants and a hoodie than she is dressing like a Brazilian supermodel strutting down the runway. Sebastian always liked that down-to-earth nature about her.

“Holy shit!” The bartender exclaims.

Sebastian looks up from his drink to see what the fuss is all about. He turns around and looks in the direction that the bartender is focused. His eyes take a while to adjust to the bright blinking Christmas-colored string lights that are still hanging across the bar’s entrance. But once they do, he sees exactly what the friendly bartender is reacting to.

An angel.

Not a literal angel, but she might as well be one. Sebastian’s eyes cannot stop looking at the young woman who just walked into the hotel lobby. Standing at an imposing 6’ 2” (with heels, 5’ 10” without) and wearing a bright flowy form-fitting red dress that shows off every single curve she has to offer, this woman is a marvel to regard. However, despite her gorgeous face, long blonde hair, and impeccably tanned skin – which is impressive for the month of December – there is one aspect to this woman’s appearance that stands out above all:

Her muscles.

Sebastian knows that this must be Alyson. Who else could it be? But in his vague memory, she wasn’t this strikingly beautiful. Or was she? His focus is only on her impeccable figure, not his foggy recollections of their past together. She’s built like a Greek goddess. Broad shoulders, bulging arms, a finely chiseled abdomen, and legs that look like they could easily crush a man’s skull – she’s by far the strongest woman he’s ever seen in his life. But not just bulky though…she’s curvy, super feminine, and carries an air of confidence of a hundred Fortune 500 CEOs.

Her walk is mesmerizing. Every soul in the lobby – from hotel staff to party guests to road weary travelers – cannot stop looking at this woman’s figure. Sebastian, a man who appreciates a female derriere just as much as the next fellow – stares in a trance-like state at the way her butt bounces with each step she takes.

Finally, Alyson spots Sebastian and approaches him. Sebastian can feel his heartrate beat faster and faster with every step she takes toward him. He gingerly stands up from his stool, remembering that he has to practice some semblance of courteous behavior. She prides himself as a gentleman, after all. The bartender, who now realizes what Sebastian meant by “she’s hard to miss,” nearly drops his cup of lime juice on the floor. Alyson, whose muscles seem to get bigger and bigger the closer she gets, lays a kiss on Sebastian’s cheek and hugs him. Her embrace is so tight, Sebastian is afraid she’ll break every one of his ribs. She may need to send him to the ER, if she’s not careful.

“Hi Sebastian! God, it’s been so long,” Alyson gushes. “Wow! You look great. You haven’t aged a day. Still as handsome as always.”

Once Sebastian regains his ability to breathe, he kisses Alyson back on the cheek, lingering there perhaps a few beats too long. She smiles at him as they both sit down. The bartender asks the muscle-bound lady what she wants to drink. She orders a dirty martini. The bartender, struggling to maintain his professional composure, proceeds to make her drink as efficiently as possible without staring perversely at her.

“Thank you. Wow, you look fantastic,” Sebastian squeaks, hoping his gaze remains respectfully on her face and not glued to her incredible body. “I always knew you were going to take the world by storm. Though I never anticipated you’d look quite like…this.” Impulsively, he traces a finger across her swollen left bicep. She playfully flexes for him so that the long vein going across the top pops out a bit. Sebastian struggles to keep his composure but is glad that she isn’t creeped out by his behavior.

“Well, life certainly takes you to unexpected places, doesn’t it?” Alyson, keenly aware the power she has over him, decides to break whatever tension is in the air. If she doesn’t, who will? “I’m really glad to see you. I feel like it’s been forty years since we last were together. Even though it was actually, what, eighteen years?”

“Nineteen,” he politely corrects her. “Nearly twenty. God, that’s hard to believe. Time sure flies. I’ve been through so much during the past couple of decades. Judging from your celebrity status, the same clearly applies to you too. We could spend all night catching up. Well into 2022, to be sure.” As captivating as her muscles are, his gaze is fixated on her beautiful face. Her kind smile, bright eyes, and glowing complexion can put a spell on any man. Sebastian considers himself under the strongest spell possible. They spend the next two hours chatting endlessly about their lives, careers, ups and downs, and hopes and dreams for the future. He admits that his life hasn’t been the same since his divorce. Battling for custody of his children took its toll. Alyson, who for whatever reason seems shy about revealing whether she has kids or not, listens intently with the level of care usually reserved for a professional therapist.

As time goes on, more people start to trickle into the bar. The time is now 8:36 p.m., which means it’s going to be midnight on the east coast soon. NYE revelers who want to watch the ball drop in Times Square on television begin to crowd the bar. No matter who walks in, they cannot help but stare at Alyson. It’s not every day that you see a gorgeous statuesque muscle goddess sitting at the bar chatting with one lucky chap. The bartender, who tries to slip a quick glance at Alyson’s long thick legs whenever possible, struggles to refill everyone’s drinks and keep his cool at the same time. He’d never admit it, but he’s a closeted fan of female bodybuilders…and knows who Alyson is. She may consider herself a “minor C-list celebrity,” but as far as the hardworking bartender is concerned, she’s a mega superstar in his heart.

“It’s getting awfully crowded in here,” Alyson observes. Sebastian looks around and nods his head. He’s feeling slightly tipsy (he’s lost track of how many times the bartender has refilled his glass with Glenlivet 12) but cognizant that their privacy is getting encroached upon. He’d like nothing more than to move to a more discreet location, if possible.

“It sure is. Damn. I guess watching the ball drop in Times Square is still exciting to folks, even though it’s the same shenanigans every year,” Sebastian laments. “If we had something like that over here, that’s where everyone would be.” Alyson downs the rest of her lemon drop cocktail, wipes her mouth with a napkin, and places her right hand suggestively on Sebastian’s leg.

“Do you want to go somewhere more, uh, quiet?” Her piercing brown eyes could burn a hole through his soul. A few of the guys sitting within earshot of them immediately turn their attention to Sebastian, as if to say without words, “Do it, you idiot! Because if you say no, I’m going to jump in and say yes.”

“I’d love to,” Sebastian quickly replies. The bros who thought for a split second that they might have a chance to swoop in and score with this blonde muscle goddess turn their backs the moment it becomes clear Sebastian wasn’t going to drop the ball like a moron. Alyson fishes in her purse for something and takes out a room key.

“Great. Let’s go. I’ll pay for our drinks.” As fast as lightning, Alyson leaves a few $100 bills on the bar counter and grabs Sebastian’s hand. The bartender nods to her, appreciating both the generous tip and the remarkable eye candy that she’s provided him during the past few hours. Walking hand-in-hand like old lovers – making the drunk bros around them even more envious, if such a thing were even possible – Sebastian and Alyson exit the bar with the pomp and circumstance of Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman leaving Rick’s Café. This Hollywood moment may seem like the end of a great epic romantic drama, but Sebastian gets the feeling the plot is about to thicken.

“Hold on, you’re staying at this hotel?” he asks.

“Yes, I don’t live around here anymore. And whenever I’m back in town, I prefer to stay in the best place possible,” she boasts. “This is it. The best this city has to offer.”

Sebastian feels a bit self-conscious walking alongside Alyson through the hotel lobby. Every man, woman, and child stops to stare at them. Specifically, they’re staring at her. It’s not too often that you see a woman with the beauty of a movie star and the musculature of an NFL linebacker gracefully walk past you. But tonight is that night for all of these folks. One small child felt compelled to ask his mother if the lady in the red dress is a boy or a girl. She doesn’t know how to answer that question. No doubt, many similar conversations were happening simultaneously around them.

Just breathe, Sebastian tells himself. Don’t make yourself look like a fool, for God’s sake.

He wouldn’t want to pass out right here in front of all these people before he can get to her room. As the newly minted power couple move toward the elevators, Sebastian senses that he’s about to get supremely lucky.

As fate would have it, Alyson is feeling the exact same thing.

The Year That Was 2016: Muscular Women Will Bring Us Together

Debbie Leung would like to wish you a happy new year!
Debbie Leung would like to wish you a happy new year!

If you were to ask a random person on the street whether 2016 was a good year or a bad year, I’d wager a guess that the vast majority of respondents would say it was an atrocious year.

What would prompt someone to say such a thing, you might ask? Let’s count the ways why 2016 could be considered a disappointing year for all of us:

  • Beloved celebrities passing away
  • Political and social unrest
  • Undesirable election outcomes
  • Mass shootings, riots, bombings, terror attacks, and random acts of violence that threaten our sense of safety and stability
  • International conflicts like war, famine, genocide, territorial disputes, religious conflict, etc.
  • Terrorism, despotism, and rising civil conflicts
  • Technological advancements that threaten the job prospects of working class people
  • Uneasiness about environmental issues
  • Eroding distrust in governments, media, and academic institutions
  • Economic insecurity
  • Rumors of war, belligerence, and frightening socio-political trends
  • Dissipating freedoms of speech, choice, religion, and association
  • Disintegrating sense of “national unity” and “common culture”
  • General feelings of anger, anxiety, and cynicism on a global scale

Yikes. You may not necessarily feel all of these things, but certainly if you’ve been paying attention to the news – regardless of where on planet Earth you live – you must recognize at least a few of the tribulations listed above. Some historians (and quasi-historians) compare the times we’re currently living in to the 1930s when we were on the cusp of World War II, which caused devastation on a scale never before seen in human history. I tend to not buy into a lot of that hype and fearmongering, but I sympathize with people who do. That’s not me being snarky or dismissive.

I’m not an expert in international relations, social psychology or foreseeing the future. However, I am someone who is keen on attempting to clarify the unexplainable. Perhaps this is why I started my blog in the first place. Yeah, I wanted an avenue for publishing my fiction writing, but as it turns out my essays are what drive traffic to my humble website. My audience spans the globe, a reality that still has not set in yet. Can you believe that? Wow!

Wow, indeed. So in a futile attempt to wrap a somewhat positive bow on the year 2016 Anno Domini, which hasn’t been so positive for far too many of us, I’ll try to talk about how muscular women can bring us together. Maybe not all of us, but certainly some of us.

Muscular women are, in many respects, the ultimate symbol of postmodernism. In case you need a quick refresher, “postmodernism” was essentially a social, artistic, and cultural movement in the 20th Century that rejected and challenged previously held assumptions about the world. It’s unfair to think about postmodernism as being over, because it definitely is not. Even in the 21st Century, we’re still questioning how we traditionally think about things like gender constructs, science, political movements, sexual identities, philosophy, religion, aesthetics, and social cooperation. So postmodernism isn’t dead and buried by any stretch of the imagination.

I hope Annie Rivieccio becomes famous one day.
I hope Annie Rivieccio becomes famous one day.

If you want to point to one facet of modern life that encompasses so much of the conversation surrounding postmodern thought, it would be the world of female bodybuilding. The existence of muscular women challenge so many of our previously held assumptions about gender, biology, sex roles, femininity, masculinity, identity, and lust. A woman with big muscles would have been unthinkable 200 years ago. Or 100 years ago. Even today many of us have a hard time believing a woman can get that muscular without freakish genetics or a comical amount of steroids.

Let’s spin this another way: Consider the way our culture celebrates the concept of the “strong independent woman.” It’s a motif that we see everywhere: novels, movies, comic books, television shows, music, political campaigns, social media, and everyday casual conversations with friends. We saw Britain appoint its second ever female prime minister. The United States saw a woman run for president for the first time. Tsai Ing-wen was elected Taiwan’s first female president, a country that exists in the shadows of an increasingly confrontational China.

Yet, the concept of the “strong independent woman” has more or less been watered down by pop culture to mean a woman who uses the right hashtags and properly criticizes Donald Trump. It’s more of a rallying cry than an actual archetype that’s justifiably acknowledged. Most of the women in the world who are creating significant social change are scientists, teachers, engineers, data analysts, and investors whom most of us have never heard of before. The visible “strong independent women” celebrated by pop culture are usually pampered celebrities who don’t actually deserve such accolades.

How funny it is that real “strong independent women” like female bodybuilders are largely ignored by our society while a pop singer like Beyoncé is heralded as the lady version of Alexander the Great or William the Conqueror. I have nothing against the Queen Bey (her music is okay), but being a major celebrity isn’t that much of an accomplishment considering there are countless anonymous female scientists out there who are working to find cures to cancer.

Isabelle Turell is a genuine strong independent woman.
Isabelle Turell is a genuine strong independent woman.

Likewise, female bodybuilders are, for the most part, anonymous. Not to readers of this blog, of course, but to the general public. It’s too bad that women like Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande will always be more famous than Shawn Tan and Annie Rivieccio, but that’s the way it is. There’s no use complaining about something that’ll never change.

However, that’s not something worth fretting over. Seriously. Muscular women may not be able to change the entire world, but they can definitely change our world. As we transition from 2016 to 2017, this is a fantastic opportunity to remind ourselves that at the end of the day, we are in control over our own destinies. It may not always seem that way, but it’s true for the most part. Consider the lessons female bodybuilders can offer us:

FBBs live in a hostile world. They are women who break convention, defy our traditional definitions of femininity, and forge their own paths despite what others say. They face obstacles that are both seen and unseen, spoken and unspoken, obvious and not-so-obvious. They are at a biological disadvantage, as well as a social disadvantage. How many times have FBBs heard the pestering question “do you really want to look that way?

Well, yes they do. They do in fact want to look that way, thank you very much. But despite the peer pressure to resist building up muscle mass, there are plenty of women in this world who ignore the noise and pursue their dreams regardless of what others say. We should applaud them, as many of us often do. Let this be a crucial lesson to all of us that you can do whatever you dream of doing – no matter how many people tell you it’s unacceptable, irresponsible or improper. I completely understand that there’s a fine line between doing foolishly stupid things (like dreaming of becoming a world famous stunt motorcycle driver) and things that are merely “frowned upon” in polite company. I get that. But there’s nothing terribly risky about being a bodybuilder, unless you recklessly put God-knows-what kind of chemicals into your body to get “gains.” That’s a whole other matter.

Female bodybuilders don’t aspire to attain the impossible. They strive to attain the possible, though far too many of us think it’s impossible. There’s the difference. It is possible for a woman to be both irresistibly sexy and ridiculously muscular concurrently. Most of us don’t think it’s possible, therefore we look down upon those who pursue this path. That being said, no matter how rocky the road will be and how choppy the waters will seem, FBBs prevail at the end.

Kim Perez is like she's from my dreams.
Kim Perez is like she’s from my dreams.

They exist. Female bodybuilders exist. And that’s all they need to do to defy an unsympathetic society that treats them with unfair skepticism. In this regard, FBBs personify a thought-provoking paradigm: Muscular women aren’t supposed to be real. But they are. Period.

This is the essence of the postmodern worldview. Whatever assumptions we previously held about the nature of femininity, biology, and human sexual attraction must be questioned and subsequently tossed out the window. Not only do muscular women exist, but they should exist. They need to exist. It’s critical that the world be able to bear witness to a group of human beings who’ve chosen to ignore thousands of years of conventional wisdom and cultivate a new reality. There isn’t a logical reason why a woman (or man) should choose to build superhuman-sized muscles, but there doesn’t have to be. People do things because we can. We create goals and try to reach them even though it doesn’t provide any apparent utility.

We climb Mount Everest because we can. We sent a rocket ship to the moon because we can. We landed a spacecraft on Mars because we can. We don’t need to, but we want to. Want. That’s all this is about. The desire to accomplish something awesome and the will to go for it.

I’m not naïve. Female bodybuilders won’t become more popular in 2017. I don’t know if they’ll become less popular (as if such a standard can be adequately measured), but certainly I don’t foresee muscular women popping up everywhere in the media. But that’s irrelevant to this discussion. FBBs will never – although it may be imprudent to use the word “never” – achieve a high degree of popularity in our mass culture. However, they’ve been able to carve out a fine little niche with folks like you and I. It’s better to have a thousand passionate supporters than one million casual onlookers.

This is how female bodybuilders continue to exist. The support from their tiny army of rabid fans will sustain their lifestyles more than being featured as a token extra on Game of Thrones or the next Avengers flick. This business arrangement won’t be radically different in 2017 than it was in 2016 (or 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, and so on), but that’s just fine. It doesn’t have to be. Economic prospects for female bodybuilders could always be better, naturally. The same could be said for any industry. But until we reach a point of financial unsustainability, I wouldn’t sweat it too much.

Will Jennifer Thomas be a breakout star in 2017? One could only hope...
Will Jennifer Thomas be a breakout star in 2017? One could only hope…

The truth is, the changing of years don’t really matter all that much. The universe won’t look profoundly different on January 1 than it did on December 31. A year is just an artificial benchmark we use to signify when the Earth makes a full rotation around the Sun. So for as bad as we think 2016 was, it makes no difference whatsoever. Events (both good and bad) happen to us regardless of what day, month, or year it is. That’s just the way it is. The concept of New Year’s Day is just a fun excuse to party too much, drink too much, and watch a crystal ball drop in Times Square. For what it’s worth, that’s okay with me.

Contrary to the title of this blog post, muscular women won’t actually bring us together. At least, they won’t bring billions of people across all cultures, languages, religious convictions, and skin colors together. Realistically, they can bring hope and joy to certain individuals who are feeling down on their luck. Sadly, there are way too many folks in this world who are feeling that way. Perhaps when it seems like optimism is lost and everything is spiraling out of control, we’ll suddenly remember ladies like Denise Masino and Brandi Mae Akers who are unapologetically sexy and don’t seem to be ready to quit anytime soon.

Remember what they have to go through every single day to achieve their dreams. Keep in mind how emotionally and physically strenuous it is to maintain a muscular body – especially for a woman. When the going gets tough, FBBs worldwide don’t just get going…they look damn good while doing it.

Oh yeah, they sure do. So here’s to another year of female muscle fandom. May 2017 bring you peace, love, joy, and unbridled sexiness.

2015 in review – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

Year in Review 2015 - Lindsay Mulinazzi
Lindsay Mulinazzi would like to wish you a Happy New Year!

Another year of blogging in the books. That means what exactly? Not much, because most bloggers consider the date they published their first post (in my case, May 23, 2012) as more of a milestone than Dec. 31 or Jan. 1.

Nevertheless, here is my 2015 Year in Review. Thank you, WordPress!

Admittedly, I didn’t blog nearly as much this year as I’d like. I promise to create more content in 2016 and do a better job at responding to comments and e-mails. I can be the worst at responding to e-mail messages. There are only so many hours in my day. I can’t engage in thoughtful, intelligent conversation with all of you, can I?

Perhaps I can. I suppose my New Year’s Resolution for 2016 should be to be more conscientious about communicating with my readers when they cordially reach out to me. Yes, that sounds like a plan. It’s not like my life will be more or less busy moving forward. But that sounds like an excuse, doesn’t it?

I hope 2016 rocks your socks off. Party on!

Here’s an excerpt:

The Louvre Museum has 8.5 million visitors per year. This blog was viewed about 130,000 times in 2015. If it were an exhibit at the Louvre Museum, it would take about 6 days for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

A New Year’s Resolution Every Female Muscle Lover Should Make

MMA fighter Miesha Tate. A local gal from Tacoma, WA!!!
MMA fighter Miesha Tate. A local gal from Tacoma, WA!!!

Can you believe 2014 is finally upon us? I could have sworn the world was supposed to end on Dec. 21, 2012. But that’s old news.

Let’s discuss what happened in 2013 for a moment. I don’t know about the rest of you, but 2013 was a groundbreaking year for me as a female muscle fan.

No, my female muscle fandom didn’t start in 2013 (nor did this blog), but I did experience a whole bunch of “firsts” during the past calendar year that truly solidified my identity as a female musclehead.

The biggest accomplishment was scheduling and experiencing my first ever muscle worship session with a real living, breathing female bodybuilder. You can read all about my exploits in previous blog posts. Since meeting “GFBB” (as I’ve come to call her for privacy reasons), I’ve actually had a couple of other muscle worship sessions with two very attractive and strong women. One was local and the other travelled here from her home in Europe.

Shannon Courtney, before and after. She's cute before bulking up. Afterward...DAMN GIRL!
Shannon Courtney, before and after. She’s cute before bulking up. Afterward…DAMN GIRL!

Let me tell you. All three experiences taught me a lot about life, sexuality and my own personal desires that I never thought I’d ever explore this time last year. If you asked me in December 2012 that I would – in a few short months – be able to kiss, fondle and lick the muscles of three gorgeous, strong women…I’d call you insane.

But insane you would be! I did do these things and would enthusiastically do them again if the opportunity ever came up.

Moving on toward 2014, late December is around the time we all start to contemplate our New Year’s Resolutions. I’ve never really been one for making official resolutions, but I suppose it’s better late than never. As female muscle fans from all corners of the world, we should collectively make a joint New Year’s Resolution that could very well benefit us all.

We should all make a concerted effort to support female muscle as much as we possibly can in 2014.

I don’t need to explain in great detail how marginalized the business of female bodybuilding has become in recent years. Everyone here should be at least somewhat familiar with what’s going on right now. Legitimate female bodybuilders are getting pushed further and further away from the mainstream. The sport is going more towards “figure” and “fitness” on the female side and farther away from celebrating the achievements of those who have gained larger muscle mass.

Soccer goalkeeper Hope Solo, another local lady, posing for ESPN's The Body Issue. I need neighbors like that...
Soccer goalkeeper Hope Solo, another local lady, posing for ESPN’s The Body Issue. I need neighbors like that…

Too bulky? Sorry, but we don’t want you. Go somewhere else. People don’t want to see that anymore. The Average Joe and Jane don’t want to see gross, protruding veins coming out of a female body. That’s…just plain nasty.

Obviously, not too many of us agree with these sentiments. We like our ladies bulky and beautiful. They’re not gross. They’re strong, confident and hardworking. Some of us guys like that.

This is why I believe we (the first-person plural “we,” which includes myself) need to show stronger support for the sport of female bodybuilding in 2014 and beyond. If industry insiders calculate that female bodybuilding isn’t lucrative anymore, then we need to respond with our wallets, mouse clicks and do whatever we can to demonstrate that male interest in the sport truly exists.

Kris Murrell appeared in the movie "Grown Ups 2." Yeah, I didn't see it either.
Kris Murrell appeared in the movie “Grown Ups 2.” Yeah, I didn’t see it either.

Money talks. Loudly. So does CTR (click-through rate), page views, search engine strength and other analytics that corporate advertisers love.

This means buying tickets to bodybuilding shows and enthusiastically watching the “big girls” compete. This means not flaking out after you set up a muscle worship session with a travelling FBB (this happens so often that many FBBs refuse to travel to certain cities. Unfortunately for me, Seattle is starting to become one of them). This means spreading the love for female muscle across the blogosphere, social media and Internet forums whenever possible. This means buying products endorsed by FBBs. This means watching movies, TV shows and documentaries that features strong women as often as you can.

You get the idea. Prove to society that we care. Prove to the decision-makers (who also carry the power of the purse) that there is a viable market for female muscle out there. We don’t want women who are proud of their hard-earned bulk force themselves to “downsize” because that’s where the money is going. We want female muscle to be profitable. I believe we have a fiduciary responsibility to openly support the very Goddesses we so much adore.

Speaking of Ronda Rousey. Here she is, in all her badass glory.
Speaking of Ronda Rousey. Here she is, in all her badass glory.

This includes me. This includes you. This includes all of us. We share this responsibility. Realistically, female muscle will never become mainstream. Shannon Courtney will never reach the level of popularity of Jennifer Lawrence (despite the fact they are roughly the same age, are both beautiful and have two first names in their names). Every little bit helps.

To be fair, look at how quickly Ronda Rousey and Lolo Jones became household names. They’re not bulky by any stretch of the imagination, but they’re without a doubt more muscularly defined than Kristen Stewart, for example. If they can capture our national attention, why couldn’t Kris Murrell or Angela Segovia?

I hope 2014 is an awesome year for all of you. So far, so good for me! 2014 probably won’t be the Year of Female Muscle, but we can all do our part to ensure 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018 and 2019 are even better than the year before it.

Lolo Jones may not be the most decorated Olympian athlete in the world, but she sure captured my heart.
Lolo Jones may not be the most decorated Olympian athlete in the world, but she sure captured my heart.

Here’s to our shared New Year’s Resolution!

(Down an imaginary shot of Scotch whiskey)

To Female Muscle! To Strong Women! To Gorgeous Muscle Goddesses! Hurrah!

(Gulp!)

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