I purchased a weight bench a few years back and enjoyed using it occasionally. After tough workouts, I have to admit I even took some enjoyment in kissing my glistening biceps. That may sound narcissistic, but the kissing was more for functional reasons than just my narcissism on display. Even my toughest weightlifting workouts didn’t get me sweating, either due to my superior physical conditioning or lack of real effort during the workout. You make the call. So I needed to moisten my biceps to get them to glisten in order to inspire wonder and awe among my family. Sloppily kissing my biceps seemed the easiest way to accomplish that. For the record, no wonder or awe was ever inspired. I was tossed a towel once since my biceps were dripping which I consider a moral victory.
Is This Still Weightlifting?
Jim Flanigan Looks at the World 