Yes. Those words actually happened today.
There I was, in a place where I thought I was safe, the gym, doing my warm up sets on the bench press and this random guy, maybe two steps above otter-mode, walks up and asks me this horrendous question.
"265-ish." I responded.
"Thats all?!" He exclaimed.
Yes... that was all. I gave him my best "meet" bench; didn't even bother giving him competition bodyweight... it didn't matter, that was "all."
This means when I go to the gym I'm not swole (or strong) enough and when I go everywhere else I'm too swole and considered freakish. Here I am. Stuck in swole-gatory; a place where I'm not swole enough or too swole all together.
"Yep... that's all."
I bowed my head in shame and thought about all the times I was ridiculed for being a muscled American. Now I have to add this to my emotional scar museum. I then thought that maybe this guy is pressuring me into becoming more swole; make me more of a freak... for his amusement, as well as the rest of the world's.
I promptly went home. Breaking the rules of the gym, didn't wipe down my bench, didn't clear off my bar or put away my weights... just ran out of the gym, my former sanctuary, and just went home. Defeated. Went home where I devoured a pint of ice cream, three cookies, a protein shake with three eggs in it, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Is there any place to feel safe?