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A Strong Wife Part Iby mscllver
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when a housewife begins working out, she becomes the stronger spouse
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Several years ago, my wife showed me a letter in one of those advice columns
and asked if I had been the writer. From memory, the letter went something
like this: "Dear Ann (or Abbey), My wife and I like to fool around physically
but often times, when we do, it becomes a test of strength that she invariably
wins. Many times I have seen her demonstrate a physical strength that I cannot
match. In fact, there is no doubt in my mind that she is clearly the stronger of
the two of us and if wrongfully provoked; she could probably make mince
meat out of me. I don't know what to do.please help!" Ann (or Abbey) did
not seem to think there was really a problem and kind of blew off the writer as
being more interested in simply talking about his strong wife. I assured my
wife that I had not written the letter, but I could certainly empathize with the
writer and I clearly understood his situation. In fact, after coming to a similar
realization about my relative standing in our home and living through the
initial defensive / inferiority pangs and then getting beat up by Carol, I soon
learned that, you know, a strong sexy wife ain't so bad. As background, let
me describe the events that have led to my current situation.
Carol and I were high school sweet hearts who ultimately found our way to the
alter. She was always kind of Rubenesque in appearance; not really fat, and
she wore the right kinds of clothes. Further, her buxom appearance certainly
filled out any sweater or shirt and provided the right kind of balance to her
appearance. Carol completed two years at the local community college while I
attended the State University. While she got immediate marketable skills in
computer operations, I had a long way to go in doing anything financially
supporting as I strived for my law degree. We married in my third year of
College and lived together in a student apartment while Carol worked at the
University and I continued concentrating on my studies. Carol was
unbelievably supportive of my education and continued to be the main
breadwinner for the next 5 years until I received my law degree. Graduating
near the top of my class, offers came pouring in from different law firms. We
both agreed on a large Oil Company's corporate firm and when we moved
South, I swore she would enjoy the life of leisure she so richly deserved. In
fact, the starting salary and other options were so lucrative that there was no
need for Carol to work when we settled into our first real house in Houston.
And, within six months, Carol announced she was pregnant.
Carol gained almost 50 lbs during pregnancy (not unheard of, but certainly
more than the doctor felt she should have) and only shed about 35 within the
first two months after Mike, Jr. was born. It really didn't matter to me. In fact,
as a chest-man, I found it pretty neat that my wife, who sported a 44DD bra
before child birth found herself having to move up in size when her milk filled
breasts overflowed the cups of her pre-pregnancy bras. Carol was a good wife
and mother and continued to support me emotionally as I was putting in 60-
hour plus weeks to help cement my position in the company. Within four
years, things were progressing nicely for me to actually one day be declared a
vice president and Carol announced she was pregnant again. Soon Mary was
born, but this time no comforting words from me could shake Carol's
depression over her own post-delivery weight. I honestly didn't care that Carol
now weighed over 200 pounds. She wore all the right clothes and I loved the
way she felt in bed. However, I could tell that Carol was upset when we went
to office parties and she saw the thin, well-dressed female professionals or the
other wives who seemed to have the metabolism that would never allow their
bodies to go over 140. Even some of the more amply endowed females
seemed to have slim waists that took away any consolation Carol may have felt
in mentally comparing chest sizes. She knew I was a chest-man, but truly
believed it would only be a matter of time before she would lose the advantage
her breasts gave her over other women.
After one particular office New Year's Eve party, Carol announced she was
going to lose weight, start working out, and get herself into shape. Although
there was no doubt in my mind that once she embarked on something she
could accomplish it, I never could envision what would follow.
I still remember the aerobic work out videos, the exercise mats, the special diet
foods and food scales, etc., etc., that became as much a part of the house as did
the baby toys, play pens, diaper bags, and other symbols of a young mother
and her toddler children. The more obtrusive stationary bike and weights had
their place in the basement where I had put them years before when I swore
that I would stay in shape. Although I knew Carol was using these as well, I
simply had no idea.
In February, the company notified me that they were responding to bids for
several oil leases in a foreign country and that they wanted me to head up the
legal team at the location. What started off as only a one-month separation
from my family, soon turned into six months as the Company's goals
expanded and other Countries became involved. This was certainly a major
strategic move for our company, and the rest of my team and I was assured that
our sacrifices would certainly be rewarded. We did get to go home for a
couple of days each month and I could notice the change in Carol's appearance
immediately. She was losing weight and toning up nicely, but I never realized
to what extent her "toning" was taking her.
The first sign of the changing relationship came the first weekend after my
return when Carol said she wanted to go bike riding. She was tired of the
stationary bike in the basement and wanted to really go out on some of the bike
trails in the local area. I had not been on a bike in years (not even the
stationary bike), but this seemed like a good idea. Our neighbor Ellen watched
Mike Jr while Carol placed Mary, who was now 18 months, in a child carrier
behind her.and off we went. After about 15 minutes, I found the ride taxing
on my legs and the hills were certainly challenging my stamina. But there was
Carol riding far ahead of me and in some cases, having to slow down or stop
while I caught up. I truly noticed my wife's calf muscles for the first time as I
watched them flare and contract as I rode behind. She was wearing one of
those clinging bike pants that come only up to mid calf and although her thighs
filled them out perhaps a little more than she would have liked, the image I
was getting was of a woman with a strong set of legs. By the end of the day,
Carol had had to stop several times to let me catch up. At one point, we
embarked on a hill with a stiff incline and Carol, with Mary in the seat behind
her, put on a burst of speed that brought her quickly to the top. Half way up
however, I had to get off the bike and walk it up the hill.I just couldn't make
it. When I finally got to the top, Carol asked if I was OK and if I needed to
rest. For the first time in my life a woman had physically challenged me and I
had lost. I don't think Carol thought she was physically challenging me, but in
my mind, my inability to keep up in a physical endeavor with my wife was
bothersome. OK, I thought, got to start jogging and working out on that
stationary bike.that thought lasted for only about a day.
As Summer would soon turn to Fall, Carol continued to remind me of my
promise to build the backyard barbecue area. She at least wanted to enjoy a
Labor Day barbecue off of the pit we had talked about building. We had
purchased about a hundred cinder blocks to build the pit and surrounding walls
the previous Fall, but the cinder blocks remained in the garage the whole time.
When they were delivered from the construction site, the delivery guy
recommended putting them in the garage if we weren't going to complete the
task right away. It seems they had experienced some theft of construction
items over the previous months and so storing the blocks inside rather than in
the yard seemed like a good idea. In retrospect, I think the guy just didn't want
to carry them to the yard and preferred backing his truck into our garage and
off-loading them as quickly as he could. Because the blocks took up almost a
whole parking space, we could only fit one of our cars in the garage and this
was another reason Carol kept bugging me.
Well, on this particular Saturday morning, Carol was relentless in her pleading
and even said she would help. I had no more excuses and so we began. If you
have never lifted cinder blocks, let me tell you.they are heavy. I picked one
up in each hand and lumbered into the backyard. Lo and behold, here is Carol
right behind me carrying four in her arms. I told her not to strain herself, but
she said she was OK and in fact was maintaining a fairly good pace in her
walk. Back to the garage I went and took two more and again here was Carol
bringing out four. Although she never said anything, I felt that the mismatch
in effort was unfair and so on my third trip, I decided to pick up four also.
Yup.you guessed it. As I bent over to pick up a stack of four in my arms,
out went my back. When Carol came back in the garage, she saw me bent over
in obvious pain and asked if I was OK. With pain in my voice, I said no and
began to shuffle over to the interior door leading to the house; still in a bent
over position.I just couldn't straighten up. Carol came over to me and tried
to help me stand, but the pain was too intense. Finally, she got up underneath
me, stuck her shoulder into my midsection, and hoisted me up onto her
shoulder. Oh this must have been a heck of a sight. There was my 5 foot, five
inch wife, carrying me on her shoulder, holding me in place with one arm
while opening the interior door with the other. Through the house she carried
me and then up the stairs. Normally I might have been concerned that she
didn't hurt herself, but I was in too much pain trying to walk myself and
judging from Carol's brisk gait, she was not having much trouble holding my
weight at all. She laid me in bed, rubbed some heat cr^�e on my back and
asked if she should call a doctor. I said no.that maybe a hot bath would ease
some of the pain. She ran the bath water for me and helped me get undressed
and then picked me up in her arms in a cradle hold and lovingly deposited me
into the bath tub. She opened the window and told me to shout if I needed
anything, but that she was going to finish with the cinder blocks. When she
came back about an hour later, she had finished the job and I realized that she
had carried out 96 blocks to my four.
The next morning, I was still in pain, but was able to get around a little better.
Carol told me to rest my back because she knew I had an important business
meeting the next day. She brought my breakfast up to me with the newspaper
and basically catered to my needs all day. In between, she got pointers from
my neighbor Jim on mixing cement and proceeded to finish the barbecue pit
herself. At one point I looked out the window, and there was our neighbor
Ellen mowing the grass (Jim thought that was like gardening and was woman's
work) and there was Jim instructing my wife on using a level. Of course Jim
wasn't helping her carry or move anything.he simply didn't do any physical
labor if he could avoid it. But as I looked out the window, it sure seemed to
me that he was admiring my wife's butt and how she looked as the sweat
poured down her shirt a little more than he should have been.
On Monday morning I was OK to drive and as I left for work, Carol, who was
always up at the crack of dawn had already made my breakfast and was getting
ready to go downstairs to the basement to work out. She had chided me at the
breakfast table that I needed to start working out myself, to do some sit-ups to
strengthen my stomach muscles because this also helped the back, and to just
start getting into better shape. Of course I also got the lecture about lifting
with my legs and not my back. On my way to work, I couldn't help but think
about how feeble I must have looked this past weekend. I also thought that
Carol did look pretty good as she worked on the barbecue pit and that if I
didn't watch myself, I could actually lose this woman. Certainly Jim was not
going to be the one to take her away (Carol didn't think a lot of Jim), but the
way he seemed to be, well, checking her out. I knew that other men were
probably doing the same.
As the week progressed, my back felt better and better, and by Saturday, I was
ready to begin working out in earnest. I slept in a little longer than I wanted (I
think I was avoiding the workout as much as I could), but finally I got up and
headed downstairs. Carol was in the kitchen but had not yet done her
workout. She said she would join me shortly (I think she was waiting for me
the whole morning). When I got to the basement, I figured I would start with
the exercise bike. Right off the bat, I realized how much was separating my
leg strength and Carol's. I could hardly turn the pedals and then realized that
the tension gage was set at 7. I needed to turn it down to 3 to attain a
comfortable resistance and set the timer for 10 minutes (I guessed this was
enough for a beginner). When I got through, I hopped off the bike and
returned the knob to the 7 position. I didn't want Carol to know how low I
needed to set the tension. As I surveyed the assortment of dumbbells, the one
barbell, and the exercise bench, I realized I didn't know what I was doing.
What kind of exercises should I start with, how do you do the exercises, how
much weight should I be using? I was just looking around when Carol came
downstairs.
"Haven't finished yet have you?" She asked
"No, just figuring out what I should do first."
Carol got on the bike and with the gage at 7, set the timer for 30 minutes and
began to pedal away. Oh my goodness I thought.look at her go. She caught
me staring and smiled at me. She said she thought it was great that I had
decided to workout and that it was certainly one of the smartest things she had
ever done.next to marrying me she added. I sat on the bench and looked at
the dumbbells while Carol kept up the chatter. At that moment, I wished she
wasn't there because the same dilemma I faced with the bike, I now faced with
the dumbbells. There were 50 pounds on each bar. OK Mike, I thought, don't
be a hero.if you need to take off some of the weight, just do it. While I
began unscrewing the cap, Carol mentioned how much she liked the bicycle
work and how it made her leg muscles burn. She then laughed and said:
"Lord I was pathetic when I first started. I had to set the tension dial to four
to be able to handle a simple 15-minute effort." "Great", I thought.
I started working with the dumbbells and had left 30 lbs on each, but
immediately knew this was too heavy. Of course I didn't want to take
anymore weight off and find myself unable to workout with less than half of
what Carol was obviously doing, but it became apparent soon enough that I
was struggling. Whatever form I may have had in the beginning was now
completely gone and as I struggled to curl my arm for the 6th repetition, it was
obvious I was doing the exercise incorrectly. Carol hopped off the bike and
said, "No, No. dear, you're doing that wrong. Your elbow should be resting
inside your thigh. here, let me show you." And with that Carol took the
dumbbell from me and began to demonstrate the right way to do the one arm
curls. "Oh Lord", I thought, "this is embarrassing." I don't know if I was
more embarrassed by the fact that my wife felt the need to teach me proper
technique in working out with weights or by the fact that her 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th,
and 10th curls were as effortless as her 1st. But maybe the real feeling of
discomfort was in seeing her bicep begin to swell in size with each repetition
to a degree that I could not fathom. While I'm thinking these thoughts, Carol
is still instructing me on technique and as she changed arms, she said it was
important not to take too long a rest in between sets, and then she proceeded to
begin knocking out 10 more with her left arm. I'm only half listening now as I
watched her left bicep swell and I fought the urge to reach out and touch it. I
noticed the vein that became prominent across the top of her bicep and as she
brought the barbell up for the eighth time, I couldn't believe the softball-sized
muscle that easily formed on her upper arm. Down went her arm again and the
veins in her forearm jumped to prominence. Her forearm flared with the
motion and before I could fully comprehend its width, she raised the dumbbell
again and her loose fitting tee shirt no longer seemed so loose as her bicep
filled the void and pushed against the material. Down went her arm again and
when it came up this time, her sleeve clung to the middle of her bicep but then
gave way as it slid off the muscle and fully exposed the majesty of her arm.
When she switched back to her right hand, I said I had gotten the message and
took the dumbbell from her. But by the 5th rep this time I was struggling and
finally Carol said, "Maybe you've got too much weight on the bar... try taking
off about 10 lbs".
I just sat there and stared at the ground when Carol came over to my side and
placed her hand on my shoulder.
"Mike, you haven't worked out since who knows when and I've been doing
this for a while. Look, I started with 5 lbs and worked my way up from
there.don't get discouraged on your first day." But I was discouraged and it
must have shown on my face. Carol went back to the bike and I reluctantly
removed 10 lbs from the dumbbell and gutted through a few curls realizing that
even the 20 lbs was more than I could handle for three full sets. Carol watched
me struggle and then mentioned that she had her original starter set over in the
corner. As I looked at the 5 and 10 pound pink and red dumbbells, I couldn't
believe that the state of affairs had come to this. As I worked with the red 10
pounders, I watched Carol finish her bike work and then put the 10 pound steel
plates back onto the dumbbell I had had trouble with and watched her muscle
through a 50 pound dumbbell workout.
Our joint workout continued for another hour, but my attention was split
between not wanting to make a fool of myself and watching my wife throw
around the weights, so to speak, in quantities I could not match. What I had
witnessed when she was demonstrating proper technique with the dumbbells
was only a prelude to what the rest of that session would bring. As I messed
around with shrugs and bench presses and other lame attempts at putting
together a routine, Carol had stayed pretty mum. Perhaps she had sensed my
embarrassment at having my wife show me what should have been a man's
thing or perhaps she simply reasoned that I would figure it out on my own as
she had months before. On the other hand, perhaps she simply felt she didn't
have time to mess with amateurs if she was going to get her own workout in.
Whatever her thoughts might have been, I did not ask, but soon my thoughts
became consumed with watching her and I think she knew it. Did she really
work out with 200 lbs on the bench press all the time? Could she do more?
How could she lift those 50 lb dumbbells so easily? And, much to my
surprise, was I really having a sexual reaction to my wife's muscles?
I sat back against the wall and just stared at her as she stood in front of the
weight bench and lifted the 200 lb barbell over her head and then lowered it to
her shoulder. I didn't know if this was harder or easier than the bench press,
but from my point of view, it was just as stimulating to watch. Whereas during
the bench press routine, it was her breasts that screamed for attention; pushing
against her shirt and revealing a hardness in her nipples through the sweaty t-
shirt, that also indicated she wasn't wearing a bra - the main attraction now
was her biceps and thigh muscles. Her thighs never looked so muscular as she
supported the 200 lbs, but it was her biceps that amazed me the most. I
thought they looked big when she worked with the dumbbells, but perhaps that
was just my initial reaction to recognizing that she even had a muscle. If I
wanted to see big, what I was looking at now was it!
When finally she put the bar back in its cradle, I could no longer hide my
infatuation. I had to feel those arms. She was toweling herself off when I
approached her and asked her to make a muscle. She looked at me and smiled
and asked if I really wanted to see it? Maybe she was perceptive enough to
realize that somehow she had bruised my male ego earlier by demonstrating
proper technique with a weight 200 percent greater than I could handle,
knowing that ultimately she could out lift me by 400 percent. And maybe she
didn't want to further compound the problem by showing off a bicep that was
clearly going to be larger than mine, but what could she do when I responded,
"yes" to her question. She rolled up her right sleeve and flexed the largest
bicep I had ever seen in person in my life! Oh yeah, I had seen pictures in
magazines of huge male and female bodybuilders, but this wasn't a
picture.this was live and right in front of me. The massive mound of muscle
that rose from her swelled arm was like nothing I had ever seen before. I
reached out to feel it and I could tell she was enjoying the attention. She
flexed a few more times to draw every centimeter of height from her swelled
arm as she could. I then tried to wrap both hands around her arm where my
thumbs and middle fingers would connect, but her arm was just too big. I
asked her to do both arms and just as she was ready to comply, a thought
crossed her mind that simply was the icing on the cake. She removed her shirt
and now stood before me naked to the waist and then blasted into a double
biceps pose.
I couldn't help but reach out and touch them and they were unbelievably hard.
I actually wanted to kiss them, but then Carol asked me to make a muscle.
What was I to say? Why would she even ask? There was no way my arm
could even compare to the mountainous biceps she was flexing. At first I
declined, but as she came up close to me, sticking her chest into mine and
standing on tip toes to kiss me, she repeated in her best school girl voice
"Please Mike, I want to see your muscle too." OK, I figured I had just worked
out and my arms were a little pumped and considering that as a man, I started
out with a more natural foundation in the bicep department than she did, I said
what the heck and so I complied. And as I stood in front of the mirror flexing
my biceps as Carol had asked, she walked behind me and slowly flexed her
arm. When she got her arm to a 90-degree angle, the top of her bicep started
to come into view in the mirror as it rose behind mine. By the time she had
finished her flexing, and with her arm now in the classic "let me see your
muscle" position, the difference was amazing. Her muscle simply dwarfed
mine as it rose like a mountain behind some foothills. I was absolutely blown
away and embarrassed by the view. I started to lower my arm, but she asked
me to hold it there for a few more seconds. With her chest now pushing hard
into my back (perhaps a gratuitous move on her part to remind me of her softer
side), she grabbed the top of my muscle between her fingertips as though she
were somehow handling a delicate fragile object. "Yup, needs some work" she
said. I put my arm down and turned to look at her. She then went into a
double biceps pose again and looked magnificent. At once, we both became
aware of the bulge that was involuntarily forming in my pants and then she
said the words I will never forget.
"Ooh, Papa Bear likes Mama Bear's muscles, doesn't he? He likes how big
and hard they are. in fact when Papa Bear touches Mama Bear's muscles, he
knows they are very, very hard! But when Mama Bear touches Papa Bear's
muscles, alas, she has to say that they are tooooo soft; ahhh, but when Mama
Bear feels the muscle between Papa Bear's legs, she says this is juuuust right."
And as she reached down and grabbed my manhood, I swear I almost came
right then. What was going on? I had just, for all intents and purposes, been
humiliated in the classic battle of the sexes, but I was somehow turned on by
the moment.
We held each other and kissed as sensuous and passionate a kiss as perhaps we
had not done for too long. I held her in my arms and she felt good. But then
she looked up at me and said, "Mike, don't give up. you need to work out.
don't you want your muscles to be as big and hard as mine?" Lord, she kept
saying those things that hurt worse than if she had hit me.
But Carol was right. I had gotten soft while she had gotten hard. I had become
flabby and out of shape while Carol was in the best shape of her life. I knew I
had to stick with the exercise regimen and to put my body and self-respect
back into shape. However, I was really not a morning person and knew that to
stick to my office schedule I would have to get up an unbelievably early hour
to exercise the right way. I figured I would join a club near the office and
workout during lunch. After a few months, pop-up meetings on my schedule
and other work issues prevented me from going to the club as often as I
wanted. I tried working out in the evenings on days that I had not done so at
work, but sometimes I was too tired when I came home. In four months, I
cannot say how many times I had worked out, but it wasn't as much as I
needed to. But if one thing was certain, Carol was working out regularly.
When I would go down to the basement, I noticed that where there were 50
pounds on the dumbbells previously, there were now 60 pounds. Where there
had been 200 pounds on the bar bell, there was now 250. While Carol's
capacity to lift was increasing at a good pace, I was still not lifting much
heavier than when I first started. Unfortunately for me, as though being chided
by the little cartoon devil that sits on your shoulder and begins filling your
head with bad thoughts, I began thinking that of course Carol can show such
progress.she just sits around the house all day.
I knew Carol had the kids, but Mike Jr. was now in school and was not under
foot for most of the day and how hard could Mary be to take care of when she
already could entertain herself with her toys, TV, videos, etc. Yes, I reasoned,
if I had all that time on my hands, I too could work out and put myself into the
shape Carol was in.
Over the next few weeks, I became moody as I wrestled with my own feelings
of doubt about my standing in the house and about how Carol had an unfair
advantage. Now I must admit, to this point, Carol had not "bullied" me or in
any way tried to exert a physical dominance over me. She remained the loving
wife that always had my dinner ready no matter what time I came home, who
always had the house in immaculate condition without ever asking for a
housekeeping service (even though we could easily afford one), and who was
doing a great job raising the kids. But whenever she would do something that
reminded me who was the strongest, it simply scarred my psyche to no end.
For example, that time when I couldn't open the olive jar and was prepared to
bang the lid a little with the back of a knife, Carol simply came over and
opened it for me - effortlessly. I watched as she took the jar in her hands and
with only her finger tips unscrewed the cap. At least she could have faked
putting some effort into it, but she quickly opened it and handed it over to me
with a slight smile on her face that clearly conveyed she knew she had once
again demonstrated her muscular superiority. Or the time a few weeks before
that when I got a flat. With the kids out of the car and Carol standing off to the
side of the road, she watched as I struggled to get two of the five lug nuts off
the wheel. When I went back to the trunk to find the can of spray that would
help me loosen the nuts, she quietly walked over to the wheel and removed the
nuts herself. I immediately realized what she was doing when I heard the
screeching of rusted bolts being loosened by brute force. I completed changing
the tire and when I had gotten through tightening the bolts, she asked me if
they were tight enough. I assured her they were, putting a final effort into
each. But she asked me for the tool and tightened each one almost an extra
turn completely. When we got back into the car, I was actually a bit perturbed
and showed it with my silence. She sensed my anger and said:
"Those nuts need to be tight.you never know if they can fall off."
I replied that I had been changing tires since I was 16 and had never had a nut
come loose.
"Well, I was just making sure.why are you so mad?"
I hesitated and then said, "because I don't know if I can get them off now that
you have tightened them so much!" I heard her snicker and then say "Oh stop
it, don't be such a melodramatic baby."
But when she saw me later that evening trying to loosen the bolts, she realized
she had in fact tightened them beyond my ability. She came over, tapped me
on the shoulder and held her hand out for the tire iron and as she proceeded to
loosen each nut, I simply walked away in disgust.
The list is even longer than this, but you get my point. And then came the
Saturday that will probably go down as the defining moment in our now
altered relationship, I truly blew it that day.
More to Follow.
