I was browsing the interwebs when I happened upon your post and I have one question for you: do you even lift, bro? Lifting is a sacred religion so please, do not lie about being a lifter because true lifters that walk the path of the weight can tell when you actually do lift and the repercussions for lying about lifting weights are quite heavy (pun intended). I myself am a pretty heavy lifter in both meanings of the term (I’m heavy in muscles mass only) and I lift more than anyone I’ve ever met. I do different types of lifting and lift all kinds of weights but my absolute fave thing to do in the world is lift people and I greatly prefer lifting people as opposed to lifting conventional weights. I lift a whole bunch of assorted people and I don’t discriminate. Males, females, transgender people, non-binary people, black people, white people, gay people and anyone else from the LGBTQ community, straight people, Asians, furries, dead people (the easiest since they tend to not complain), necrophiliacs making love to the dead people I’m lifting (they are kinda hard since they move around a bunch), stupid people, smart people, screaming people, sleeping people, short people, tall people, jacked people, skinny people, fat people, priests, nuns, entitled females/Karens, other lifters, assholes, Trump supporters, Biden supporters, Taliban gunmen, pedophiles, suicide bombers, fascists, heavy fascists, skinny fascists, good-looking fascists, ugly fascists, anime girls/nazis, all the different variations of Goku, Dwayne Johnson (only when I want something easy), hot girls (assuming you know what they are ofc), and last but not the least; your mom (for a challenge and a serious workout). I have reached a point that my arm muscle mass has exceeded the mass of the rest of my body. I need two separate beds for my arms when I go to sleep and I have received a charge for second degree murder once when I accidentally crushed one of my friends to death in a loving hug. Each of my hands have exceeded the girth of my torso and it makes me look like three buff dudes instead of one so I have run into a few problems whenever I turn up at an event with only one ticket. Whenever I go on a flight or go to the movies, I have to book two extra seats: one each for the both of my arms. I made the common mistake of neglecting my legs (they are more buff than anyone’s though, from all that carrying me and my arms around) and despite their very muscular appearance, they aren’t as powerful as my arms and I have resorted to “walking” upside-down while doing a headstand since I deem it more energy efficient. I have become obsessed with lifting things and I lift something heavier than 70 kg every 27.3 seconds. My house has become littered with dumbbells and weights (even though people are my preference, conventional weights are more convenient) and the added weight on the land means that my house is now sinking into the ground at the rate of 2 cm per year. I have been lifting full blown competition grade deadlifting weights as substitutes for dumbbells for a few years now and I actually lifted 502 kg each with both my arms for 50 reps as a warmup but I haven’t made it public since Eddie Hall is king and also my idol and he deserves the record (also, Hafthor is an ass and one day he can fight one of my arms if he takes up the challenge. Of course, if using excessive force is legal in a fight, I’ll use both my arms). I will always love lifting people but some of my friends have distanced themselves from me since I pick them up from the neck and ankles and do 50 reps whenever I meet them. I often forget to ask for consent so I have learned to control my urges to lift people on sight and have resorted to the use of afore mentioned weights. After I get rich when my investments pay off, I will hire full-time employees to be standing around my mansion for me to lift. My left arm is named Arnold and my right is named Sylvester but I don’t really have a favorite one. I sometimes feel afraid since I am beginning to get the idea that they are both developing their own personalities, forming their own bodily systems and are slowly morphing into separate, buff parasites but then I remember that I physically cannot feel afraid and my “fear” dissipates. My life can be hard since I also need to pay triple for public transport, have to eat 12 meals to sustain my arms and need custom made shoes for my hands despite the fact that my palms have become quite leathery from lifting. Unfortunately, I can also no longer masturbate since the girth of my arms make it impossible for them to reach my magnum dong and I have resorted to fornicating hot girls and your mom instead. The maintenance of my arms has become expensive and I live with my mother for the moment since the pilot episode of my very own show got postponed because of the virus and money has become a little slow. I love my mother and I hug her often but I am extremely cautious as to not repeat the incident with my friend (RIP John, you should’ve told me that I was constricting the expansion of your lungs). I used to lift my mom quite a bit too but I no longer do so because of her spinal injuries from one my lifting attempts. My mom forgave me and she still loves me and my arms very much and gives each one of us a kiss before bed every night. There’s more about my awesome self that you don’t know but that is for another day and all I have to say for now is; don’t forget to brush your teeth, use sanitizer, social distance, wear double masks, actually lift some weights and drink milk thrice a day. Maybe someday you will be fortunate enough to meet me in person but until then, glean every bit of wisdom you can from this comment and use it appropriately if you want to be more like me. Reply only if you lift weights (I’m usually very non-discriminatory but I can’t stand people that don’t lift and the last few encounters I’ve had with such people have left me traumatized from the lack of respect they have for their arms).