Marcus Caravahlo (caravahlo) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-07-12 15:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2012 [07] july |
WHO: Marcus and Lulu
WHAT: Manly Exertion leads to Manly Confusion!
WHEN: Mid-Morning, July 12th
WHERE: The Gym (which doesn't start with "M"... :()
RATING: PG (Language)
As a child, Marcus had always been tall. He'd also been heavy, having always had an affinity for carbs. His father had been a neglectful asshole, but the man had also been aware of the value of flavorful oils, marbled meat, and strong sauces. That passion had been bestowed onto all of his children, and Marcus was no exception. Good food had always taken priority over all other pleasures, even sex and booze. However, being the biggest kid in his classroom in every possible way had its disadvantages. It wasn't so much that he was picked on. In his experience, the best way to deal with a bully was to sucker-punch the asshole in the back of the head while the guy was taking a piss. Then the others would back the fuck off. There was also the tried-and-true method of just establishing oneself as the better bully right out of the gate. Nothing the other kids had said to him about his appearance or his attitude was news. His father had said it all first, or his brothers. So he'd entered public school with thick skin.
No, it wasn't the insults that got to him. It was that he'd agreed with them. Being a fatass wasn't going to get him anywhere in life. Every adult he knew who was fat, his father included, was a goddamn loser, and the chances of him bucking the trends were already pretty slim. What really drove the nail home, though, was puberty. There were people who would befriend the aggressive behemoth kid for a multitude of reasons. Protection, laughs, whatever. Nobody really wanted to screw him, and Marcus wasn't about to go through life unable to get dates. So he either needed to lose weight or undergo an attitude adjustment in order to get others into bed. Certain breeds of shy girls and closeted guys could be coerced through sheer aggression, but looking good would help, and changing his body was the easier of the two. After all, he couldn't give up dick jokes. Not at sixteen.
He'd started the routine in high school, swapping between weight-loss and muscle building. By his senior year, he'd lost the extra middle, and had only been gaining size in the good way. The types of food he'd enjoyed didn't have to be sacrificed, and he was attracting ass despite his personality, so it was all win-win. The routines were changed up regularly, but the determination stayed the same. He couldn't argue with results.
At Sing Sing, the food quality had gone down significantly. Marcus ate in a cafeteria instead of cooking whatever he wanted for himself, and it made him surly, which he largely blamed for not being able to pull any tail. Keeping the weight off was no longer an issue, but there was still strength and endurance to consider. He couldn't afford to let himself get weak, just in case. Maybe he couldn't be immune, maybe he couldn't plan parties, or be a fucking doctor, or anything important to anyone else. What he could do is stay strong, though. That way if he was ripped apart by zombies, he could at least go out punching through them, looking badass. Giving any witnesses a pretty picture to remember him by.
A man had to have his priorities.
It being an even-numbered weekday, however, Marcus was actually mostly giving the weights a rest in favor of ab-work and cardio, which meant crunches, sit-ups and squats. Later, after the oppressive sun went down, he planned to head out and work one of the bars outside. Upper body strength was essential when you never knew whether or not you'd have to be pulling yourself up over a fucking wall.