Our first month in India has served as an acclimation period, a way for us to become familiar with Delhi and to learn how to safely navigate this city. One way we chose to kill our downtime was to join a gym, equipped with complimentary trainers. I still don’t know my trainers name but my biceps are peaking at 19 inches and my back doubles as a helicopter landing pad … my guy knows his shit. I had a routine check up yesterday and the doctor suggested I have surgery to remove the two metal horseshoes lodged in my triceps.
Anyways Arvil decided to work out his tits today, seeing as we do not decide what exercises we perform Arvil asked his trainer. Indian people are naturally touchy feely, (when I sat in on an English class for Munzil within minutes a 17 year old Indian kid, Raju, caressed my legs and then used them as an arm rest). Guy on guy hugs, hand holding and slapfests are huge in India. So as a way for our trainer to gauge what exercises Arvil should perform he gently cupped Arvils tits. He smiled, felt around for a couple seconds and I guess through this hybrid breast exam/2nd base session our trainer gathered all the data from Arvils tits and knew exactly what gym session was necessary.
Needless to say, Arvils chest is no long small and humble. The kid is sporting a pair of 98% lean Shpuppies. The kids got Rockies.