Let’s be honest right from the beginning. I am a man writing to women about women, so right away, I realize my credibility is seriously lacking. This is where you come in. In a nutshell, I need your help. (A lot of your help, actually!)
I need you to be the one woman on the face of the planet who stands in the mirror naked and absolutely, positively loves looking at her own body. I need you to put on a bathing suit this summer and know that when you get up from your chair to refresh your summer cocktail, heads are turning. I need you to go shopping at Nordstrom’s and when the salesperson says, “Can I help you?” I need for you to look her in the eye and confidently say, “Yes. I’m looking for a strappy, short, tight little black dress for this weekend.” And when she asks you, “What do you do to look so great?” I need you to look her straight in the eye and tell her the simple truth.
I need you to tell her that you spend practically no time at all in the gym. I need you to tell her that unlike your friends who spend hours “doing cardio to burn calories,” you don’t do that because that’s not the purpose of exercise. The purpose of exercise is to increase your metabolism and the way that you increase your metabolism is simple. You add lean muscle. Period.
I need you to tell her that Pilates may be great, but that she’ll never look the way you look from stretching herself like Gumby. I need you to tell her that flapping her arms around with little purple weights that weigh little more than a salt shaker in order not to “bulk up” is about as laughable as David Letterman denying he had an affair.
I need you to tell her that Yoga is great and long walks outside are great and whatever she’s doing to move her body is great, but that the only way to re-build the muscle she’s lost is to pick up and move something that weighs more than her own arm or leg.
I need you to laugh out loud when you tell her that in this lifetime, she’ll never, ever look like the spray-tanned freaks splattered on the cover of women’s fitness magazines with biceps bigger than cantaloupes. I need you to tell her that even if she wanted to look that way, she’d have to take lots of illegal steroids, starve herself half to death and workout until she was ready to throw up. I need you to show her your lean, gorgeous shoulders and triceps and ask her, “Does this look bulky to you?”
I know I’m asking a lot, but I really need your help. After nearly two decades of training thousands of people from all walks of life, I’ve come to the inescapable conclusion that as a man, nothing I say or do seems to convince women that they still believe one of the biggest lies ever perpetrated on them in the history of the fitness industry: Weight training makes you bulky. I’m pretty sure I’ve said enough over the years to try to convince women that resistance training will make them more fit, lean and beautiful than they’ve ever imagined.
Maybe seeing you walk down the street in that little short black dress is all the convincing it will take.