No thanks, I don’t need a spotter. I’m Martin Lovehandle, part time exerciser and casual fitness guru. My personal trainer told me I need to do some exercise so I don't die early and my wife told me I need to do some exercise so she doesn't fuck my personal trainer. That’s made me question if I should exercise to delay my inevitable death by a few years, or not exercise and hopefully die sooner. My wife told me that when we have sex in the missionary position she tries not to vomit because my pectoral muscles remind her of Gwen Stefani’s A-Cups and she hates lesbians. I guess I’ll just give this exercise thing a half hearted go like everything else I attempt.
I've joined the gym for the first time ever this year in an effort to tone up and lose some weight off my horrendous meat-costume. I’m pretty excited about it, I’ve read lots of magazines on how to exercise to get a sexy body like David Duchovny.
I've never been to an actual real gym before so it's all new and challenging for me. I’m sure I’ll be fine though, I'm fully equipped in the latest hi-tec fabrics to help me move my body in the way it has been designed to do for the past thousands of millennia. I bought a Nike dri-fit midriff tank top and some size XS three quarter leggings! These leggings are tight though. I hope I don’t see a girl doing that inner thigh spread&squeeze machine because I’ll just daydream about her tight, cigar-cutter-butthole, snapping my cock off like a celery stick and it’ll give me a visible rising bean that she might report to management. I like all these machines, they’re like playground equipment where you can try all sorts of creative fun things, like if you want to you can even do some of the moves on the suggestion cards that each one has, or just freestyle it.
I've been overhearing some of the other gym lifters talk about their fitness schedules and I've developed my own. I’m using a workout app on my iPad called StrongVulva. I monitor my workouts with a FitClit wristband connected to my iPad via bluetooth that I've wrapped around my scrote. I have to do:
10 raps of Uncline Squirts
20 Crunchy Napkins (left and right side)
CrossStep Taint Logies to 80% erection
Finish off with 10 minutes on the CableRaper machine
Alternate handed 50 minute changeroom shower wank
I’m also on a diet that my wife’s friend gave me. It’s a new one where you scream at a loaf of bread and throw pasta up some stairs. She lost 49 kilos on that diet and got so thin that when she lifted up her shirt you could see all six of her ovarian cysts. She collapsed into a coma before she could reach her goal weight of 400 grams of pure beef jerky. I haven’t heard from her since but my wife says she has a body to die for, and she might.
Anyway I better get back to my last attempt to fold my spine backwards and touch my neck with my feet while lifting this 3kilo barbell. I’m going to strain so hard I’ll look like a mix of Karl Pilkington’s frustrated head and a bag of freshly unplugged tampons. 3, 2, 1, HUUUUUUAAARRRGHHHH! oh fuck, call an ambulance, my spleen is bulging out the back of my sweat wicking leggings.