"Too big,” they’d said. Lose about 25 lbs and you’d place a lot higher. Tighten it up and come in smaller and more toned, and you’d have a good shot at winning. Those were the judges critiques at last year’s Olympia. It was a shame that women’s bodybuilding was so...so.... lame? Wasn’t the point of bodybuilding to get BIGGER muscles? Why have a heavyweight division if they’re only going to say I’m TOO BIG? Wasn’t that why they created bikini and physique? For those cute little muscle Barbies? Not for us musclebound women intent on being the best. And oh boy, do I intend on being the BEST, the BIGGEST, the MOST MUSCULAR woman alive... Screw the IFBB and everyone at the Olympia. I don’t need them or their contests to know who I am. “Too big.” You’re damn straight. They had no idea just how right they were.. I’ll show them too big alright, just wait until they get a load of this bulky muscle monster now!
When I placed at that very bottom last year, I admit...I became deeply depressed. All the hard work, all the blood sweat and tears for naught. Did the judges not know how hard I lifted? How insanely strict my diet was? Did they not appreciate my time and dedication? So much of my life was devoted to winning, only to find out that I was the absolute worst competitor in their eyes? Well screw them! I built muscle so easily. I’d always tried to my hardest to be lean and well proportioned. But screw that, not anymore! My new goal is to gain as much muscle as possible. And let me tell ya, nobody packs it on like me! I am a muscle-building MACHINE! Heck, at 18 years old I had 18 inch biceps, 20 inches at 21, and at last year’s Olympia my arms were 23 inches. I was 33 then...I’ll be turning 34 the day before the next Olympia. Trust me when I say, my arms will be AT LEAST 34 inches. But is that my ultimate goal? NAH! My goals are so much loftier now than they have ever been- impossible for any other man or woman, even with drugs. Am I insane? Am I insane to want this, to add so much muscle? Yes. Yes I am.
My entire life has been a balance between my family and my passion for bodybuilding. My husband and daughter are my number one priority. And they always will be. They both could see how devastated I was. I didn’t eat right, or lift at all for 3 months. I was sleeping 15 hours a day. My husband told me to do whatever it takes to feel myself again. Whatever it takes to get my revenge. Thank God for that man. He is so supportive (although we all know he's a muscle-lover so it's a win win for him). I won’t let them down. It was 3 months ago I decided to get absolutely massive. It only took a month to get back to where I was before the loss. Another month to get to my current 350 lbs of rock hard muscle. Like I said, I gain muscle so easily. I still have 6 months before the next Olympia. Over the course of 1 month I went from 200 lbs to 220 lbs. I went from 220 lbs to 350 lbs in the span of 2 months. And still 6 more months to go? Yikes. They said I was too big. Just wait.
It was 3 months out from Olympia when my husband purposed steroids. I've never done drugs in my life. Hell, I barley even drank alcohol. We both shared a passion for a healthy lifestyle. I scoffed initially, but kept the idea in the back of my mind. Would it really be so bad if started doping? Everyone else did it, and it was a point of pride for me that I never did. But this was about revenge. This was about getting even, settling the score. Showing them JUST how big TOO BIG really was...
Two months out. Last week I had broke the smith machine in my house. I'd been doing seated military presses, just some volume work, light weight- high reps, when my daughter snuck up behind me and started tickling me. I inadvertently pressed up on the 500 lbs too quickly and bent the whole machine. When my husband came running in to investigate the awful noise, I just shrugged my gargantuan basketball-sized shoulders and grinned sheepishly. There really wasn't enough weight in my home gym to challenge me anymore, so no biggie!
My brother was in the Navy and had managed to procure some anchor chains from a battleship. An early birthday present he'd said. I was initially nervous, I didn't want him to get in trouble! But he just pretended to zip his lips and rolled his eyes. He's a goofball but I love him. Ironically he did end up in trouble when he returned back to his ship. His superiors weren't happy when he told them he broke three ribs in a "fight." I might have hugged him a tad too tightly. Anyway...back to my workouts. My husband had found an old warehouse his company owned, and combined with the chains and some construction equipment we bought, I was really able to let loose! What were already unheard of gains were now well past inhuman, and they were only increasing more and more. My body was a temple of pure muscle mass and strength. I'd also started pills and injections. An old friend who was a doctor had moved to Brazil, and he’d designed a new muscle-building cocktail specifically tailored to my genetic profile. No negative side-effects: no hair-growth, no acne, no voice changes or facial changes of any kind. It did however greatly increase my aggression. One day, a neighbor had come snooping around to investigate why there was loud banging and rumbling coming from a supposedly-abandoned warehouse. I had barreled across the warehouse, knocking over equipment and flinging anything in my path. My neck veins popped as I ripped the door right off its hinges and tore it in half, spit flying in his face as I roared at him for interrupting. Luckily my husband was there to calm me down. Because I was about to run straight through the concrete wall and go tear the guys house off its foundation. Rampage adverted!
Today is the day. The day I take revenge on those ignorant judges. The day I take my rightful place as the best bodybuilder the world has ever know. I entered the auditorium from the rear, just as all the puny contestants were being called out. The main door would attract to much attention...not that I was worried about THAT, I just wanted to scare everyone at once. The fire exit was locked, but I made quick work of it with one quick inward push from my 42 inch forearms. The door was much too narrow- my traps alone wouldn't fit through the standard 32-inch width door. The crowd was cheering so loud they must not have heard the noise as I barged straight through the wall with my obscenely muscle-packed delts. Or the noise and shaking as I rumbled down the hallway. I had been wider than I was tall for weeks. Not hard when you're only 5'3". My 8 foot wide shoulders smashed up against either side. My legs were so massively thick, pumped and musclebound that I had to swing my whole body around to move, causing my shoulders and arms to gouge into the walls and absolutely demolish them.
When I got to the stage entrance, a big burly security guard spotted me and tried to stop me. Now, a 6'6" 300 lbs man's size would normally intimidate most people. Haha! I was double his weight...TWO MONTHS AGO. I was easily tipping 950 lbs at this point and growing every minute. Those roids had done wonders! Doing one arm curls with a multi-hundred pound anchor chain attached to a Ford Escort had pushed my arms well beyond 120" and they were freakishly cut and vascular. When the guard put his hand on my chest to stop me, I simply lost it. Anger turned to pure rage as I started clenching my fists- how dare he try and stop me, the ULTIMATE beefcake from her destiny. Freaky veins turned nightmarish as all the steroids began to mix with my hatred for all things Olympia. The 300lb man didn't stand a chance as I walked right through him. The impact of my bulldozer-benching pectorals effortlessly sent the guard flying 15 feet out onto the brightly lit stage. He landed on top of the contestants, knocking a few to their feet.
The commotion silenced the cheering crowd. As the MC turned to see the disturbance he nearly fainted at the sight of my giga-mass. My extreme tan contrasted perfectly with my bright white Nike Shox, red bikini top and booty shorts. I looked like a UFC ring-girl who absorbed the Hulk and then overdosed on Human Growth Hormone. Contestants eyed me with both awe and fear. The judges called for more security- two men similar to the first came rushing towards me. Something primal in me snapped as I grabbed each man by the throat and quickly threw them into the crowd below me. I stomped to the edge of the stage and leered down at the judges with a sadistic grin and evil glint in my smoky eyes. My heart began to race as steroid-filled blood coursed through my veins, compounding with my intense rage for the biggest pump of my life. "Look at me now! Am I too big for you now?" I roared, cranking down into THE most muscular pose.
I reached down a hoisted up two of the judges by their shirt collars. Spit flying in their faces, I roared, "Look at the monster you've created, this is all thanks to you!" I obsessively began doing bicep curls with their pathetic bodies, pumping my biceps faster and faster. Their weight was far too light and only added to my intense need to make them feel my wrath! Both judges wet their pants and lost consciousness. Angered even more, I hurled the two bodies out into the stands, the impact surely crippling the judges. Seeing them lying their motionless fueled my lust for revenge, for more dominance and violence! Glaring out at the world over my multi-foot deep pectoral cleavage, I grabbed the microphone stand next to me and pulled from either end. The stretched metal sheared in half from the brute power and strength of my bare hands. Audience members and contestants screamed and ran. "Yes! Run! Be scared! Be VERY SCARED!!! You are about to witness the rise of a goddess! The rise of a MUSCLE MONSTER! I am a massively pumped-up muscle building powerhouse, and I. WILL. HAVE. MY. REVENGE!" Swinging my behemoth body I hurled the twisted metal shards at the rear exits, shattering windows and creating more chaos in the audience as they struggled to exit. With an earthshaking rumble, I leaped down from the stage- my now 1,200+ lbs weight cracking the concrete floor like egg shells and sending tremors that registered on the Richter scale. With an animalistic grunt, I overturned the judges table like it was cardboard, sending it careening end over end. Eyeing the carnage and destruction with equal parts glee and fury, my attention fell on my ultimate prize: the stage. Who knows how heavy a full stage is? No seriously...I want to know. There had to have been at least a full ton just in the weight of the dozen or so competitors still on stage. Punching my hands through the wood paneling, I found grip on a metal I-beam running the length of the stage. Roaring like a possessed demon, I began to lift the stage. Nothing. How dare this sorry excuse of human engineering defy me! Tensing my monolithic arms, shoulders and legs, I funneled even more horrific power into my insane musclebound body and began to heave up on the structure. Ever so slowly, more and more cracking could be heard and I redoubled my efforts- pouring even MORE god-shaming , titanic, monstrous strength into my incredibly pumped and still-growing muscles.
"You thought I was too big before? HA!!! You think I'm big now? Well just wait, I'm only getting started! Mama Pump is here to show you all true power and mass!" With a horrible shearing noise, a large piece of stage splintered and broke off in my hands. After all, it wasn't built to be picked up in one piece...even if someone was actually strong enough to do so. "Pathetic! So weak!" With a maniacal laugh I beat my chest like King Kong and screamed at the futility of fragile steel. My muscles bloating and expanding and pumping bigger and bigger with every huff and puff. Fleeing audience members tripped as the auditoriums foundation shook from the force of my massively overpowered arms slamming into my wrecking-ball sized pecs. They had said I was too big. There was no such thing. A monster had been born, and I was going to keep pumping and growing until every single one of them regretted ever crossing me.