Deadlift

Things just didn’t seem right in the world this morning as I walked to the gym. I saw moms crying and being comforted by their small children. I saw grown men giggling. I still didn’t think I was prepared for what I saw when I walked out of the locker room.

She was a small women -- probably less than a hundred pounds -- and yet she was deadlifting nearly four times her weight. Her build was remarkably average, no huge muscles to think of. I didn’t want to stare, but I couldn’t stop my jaw from dropping. Then she spoke.

“Everything okay? What are you staring at?” She asked with the voice of a husky man that sounded quite familiar.

“Joe?” I asked, not quite believing the guy was inside this petite feminine body.

“What’s you problem? You’re acting like we don’t see each other every day.”

I wanted to ask how he couldn’t not notice his body was completely different. I wanted to point out he was now a woman. Then I realized calling someone who can deadlift 400 pounds a woman if they didn’t realize they were one might be a bad idea.