Gentlemen, I've been struggling through this journey since sometime in November. I had great early success but have been very slowly implementing things as this has been very difficult for me to change my behaviors. Let's just say I've been reading the side bar, understanding all of this, but it's been so damned slow to process and truly grasp.

I've had several moments of clarity lately and the biggest one came in the form of anger. I had to stop and ask myself, with whom are you angry? It's repeated here often, hit the gym. The iron doesn't lie, it doesn't care about your rage, your ability or anything at all. So, you "unplug." Or so you believe. You have that moment when you're standing in front of the mirror, that disgusting belly slopping over your unused penis, love handles hanging off like saddle bags. Do you get angry with the mirror? Do you get pissed at the fat hanging off your body? Do you get mad at your pants for being too tight? No, it must be the lighting is off and it's making you 'look' fat. You get to the gym and notice your gut sticks out farther than your chest. In fact, your shirt is tight around your waist and simply hangs from your shoulders, lifeless like a curtain. And you're angry, frustrated, pissed. But at whom? Why are you so fucking angry? So you start on bench press because you're still too much a pussy to hit squats or deads. You complete your workout, feeling a bit better, but still watching that fat ass in the mirror. Pissed. On the way out, you hit the scale. 218? 218?!?!?! “fucking scale must be off.” Even more pissed

You head home. Fuming about the feeble and fat little bitch you’ve become. You walk in the house, shit testing harpy meets you at the door, “Here, change his diaper. It’s full of shit. What’s for dinner?” Before you even realize what just happened, you’re changing a diaper. Then, with six month old in hand, you walk into the living room and dining room, both are absolute disasters. Yes, she works from home, but kids are in day care during the day, she doesn’t clean, doesn’t cook. Doesn’t even clean up after herself. “bitch” you think to yourself. As you walk into the kitchen, you step on a toy, “SQUEAK” lose your balance and nearly fall with kid in hands. “motherfuck. This place is like a fucking trailer.” Then she blows up. “I WAKE UP AND TAKE THE KIDS TO SCHOOL AND COME HOME TO WORK ALL DAY. IT’S NOT LIKE I SIT ON MY ASS NOT DOING ANYTHING. I WORK TOO! QUIT TALKING TO ME LIKE I’M A CHILD AND A LAZY PIECE OF SHIT.” And you finally lose your shit. The battle ensues. Screaming, yelling, named calling, etc. Again, why are you angry, with whom are you angry? You engage for what reason? You don’t yell at the barbells because you can’t bench 250. You can’t be mad at the weights for being heavy. It’s not their fault your arms look like a lunch lady’s, that the weight is too much for your strength. You don’t yell at the mirror because it shows you how fat you really look. Likewise, you don’t yell at your wife because you’re a miserable failure of a leader. Just because her shit tests are stronger than you’re able to deal with doesn’t mean she’s a bad woman, it means you're a weaker man than your wife.

Women are shit test machines. They’re a barometer of masculinity. So if the shit tests get harder, you’re making progress. You wouldn’t get angry at the barbells when you were finally able to do 250 on the bench, then throw more on to push yourself. And you wouldn’t say, “well, I can do 250, I’m going to be comfortable with 225.” It doesn’t get easier, this isn’t a fix. This is a lifestyle. If you want it easy, find a woman who isn’t as strong. Someone weaker than you. But NEVER blame her for testing you. This is what she was designed for. Enjoy it and embrace it. Remember, you don’t blame the weights for being heavy, you embrace the heavier weights for improvement. Be HAPPY with improvement.

This may or may not have been anything like my experience.