I Competed In My First
Bodybuilding Show: Ask Me
Anything
Not only am I a bodybuilder (!), I'm a former (?) academic in the
Humanities. Many of my friends, family, and former colleagues are
unfamiliar with bodybuilding. It seems strange and inexplicable to a lot
of them. On Facebook and Twitter, I asked if people had any questions
about being a bodybuilder (!!) and my contest experience. It turns out
they did. They had plenty of questions, both practical and theoretical.
In fact, the questions were so numerous, and some of them deserved
such involved answers, that this is going to be a multi-part series. So if
you know me and you're curious, or if you've just wondered why the
heck we bodybuilders (!!!) voluntarily do something so strict and
strange, read on.
There are five judges. They rank the competitors of each division (for
example: middleweight, heavyweight) based on a muddy combination
of size, symmetry, conditioning (how lean you are), presentation, etc.
Different judges may prioritize one of those criteria over another, but
it’s all a bit of a black box inside each judge’s brain — they silently
consider all these things and then they just spit out a number.
Each judge ranks the competitors within a division, and your rank is
converted into a points score — first gets one point, second gets two,
and so on. The lower your score the better. The lowest possible total is 5
— it means all five judges agreed you were first. Judging is subjective,
and the points totals can bear this out.
The contest is split into two parts, typically morning and evening.
Competitors are broken up into their respective divisions. In the
morning, each competitor has thirty seconds solo to show off their body
as best they can. There’s no artistic element to this: it is pure flexing.
The music is just whatever background stuff the venue is playing.
Then, all the competitors in a division are lined up on stage and the
judges call out mandatory poses. The competitors will assume and hold
those poses, flexing hard, until the judges tell them to relax. The judges
sometimes take a long time here, figuring out their rankings, and it can
be very taxing to hold these poses. You can’t relax for one moment,
because you never know when a judge is scrutinizing you. This is the
most athletically demanding part of the day. A comparison round that
Judges will move competitors around to put people who are close in
their rankings next to each other in order to make easier comparisons,
and they may ask for the same pose multiple times. Generally, if you are
moved toward the middle of the lineup you are doing well, and if you
are moved toward the edges you are doing not so well.
Then you are thanked. You file off stage as a group and that's the end of
that. The next division begins the process all over again.
So that’s the morning, and it’s what determines placing, although the
places aren't revealed yet. Everyone goes away for a few hours (I went
home and napped) and comes back in the evening.
The evening is the main event in terms of spectacle. The audience is
small in the morning, although that’s what determines who wins and
such, because it’s kind of boring and technical. Also: who wants to get
up early on a Saturday? The evening, though, is a big production, and
there’s typically a full house in the theatre. Each competitor comes out
alone and does their one-minute artistic routine to music of their
choice. After everyone in a particular division has done this, the results
of that division are announced and people get their medals or trophies
The posing routine that’s done in the evening has no bearing on the
result, but it is your moment to shine. It's kind of a victory lap, a
moment to celebrate your achievement and show your personality to
the crowd. It's the most fun and the most interesting part of the day for
most people.
So, what are the classes and divisions? There are six main classes,
which are further subdivided into divisions. The classes are: Men’s
Open Bodybuilding, Men’s Classic, Men’s Physique, Women’s Physique,
Women’s Fitness, and Women’s Bikini. There’s also Women’s Open
Bodybuilding, but it is a bit of a dying breed. I’ve never been to a show
that’s had more than one or two women bodybuilders, and many
(including the show I just competed in) didn’t have any at all. I think
that’s too bad. Women’s bodybuilding bucks mainstream expectations
Men’s Open Bodybuilding is probably what you think of when you think
“bodybuilding.” It’s divided into weight divisions, ranging from
bantamweight (under 143 lbs) to light-heavyweight (176 lbs to 198 lbs)
all the way up to super-heavyweight (over 225 lbs).
Men’s Classic is where I competed. Classic is a form of bodybuilding
that’s meant to call back to the physiques of a previous era (the 70s,
primarily — think Arnold) — more graceful and streamlined yet still
very muscular.
The divisions in Classic are purely by height — I was in Men’s Classic
Division C, which is 5'10" to 6'. There is a weight limit, because you can
be “too big” for Classic. The limit for someone my height is 212 lbs (I
was well under this). Since you can’t magically get taller, if you’re too
heavy at registration you’re disqualified and don’t get to compete
(unless you decide to last-minute register for Open Bodybuilding
instead, which organizes divisions by weight but has no weight limits).
You can compete in as many classes as you want to, provided you are
eligible and pay the entry fee for each. In fact, I may compete in both
Classic and Open next time, if I’m successful in bulking up sufficiently
so that I wouldn’t be out of place as a light-heavyweight in Open, yet
still under the weight limit for my height in Classic.
How do people feel about the spray-on tans in
competitions?
For those of you who don't know what this is about: bodybuilders have
an intense fake tan applied to them before they go on stage, and it looks
weird. Bodybuilders all understand why spray-on tans are necessary,
but I think most of us find them a nuisance from a practical point of
view. They cost a lot (like $120), they stain everything you touch, they
cause stress backstage as you worry about getting your touch up and
glaze before they call you on stage, and they’re really cold going on! (No
At my show, the first coat was done the afternoon and evening before
the show, right before registration and the athletes’ meeting. The
second coat was applied the morning of the show, starting very, very
early. 3:45 am early. I felt lucky to snag a 5:30 am slot.
I do think there’s something special and worthy about the awkward and
unpleasant experience that is getting and having a stage tan. It’s a
source of bonding for the competitors. In a sealed room where every
surface is covered in clear plastic, standing in front of a fan, naked but
for a “modesty sock” awkwardly shoved over your genitals, waiting for
your tan to dry, trying not to shiver (SO COLD) — you do feel a
wordless bond with all the other guys around you, enduring the same
thing. Then the workers come by to check on you. Are you dry yet? Yes.
But you’re not dark enough. You need another coat. Follow me, back to
So you see, no one really likes the tans. And I get why they seem really
weird and off-putting to most people —they look bizarre in any context
other than on stage under the bright lights. But I wouldn’t for
a minute consider getting rid of them. Like or dislike is too simple a
question. The tans are necessary because of the stage lights. They
maximize the appearance of muscular definition and they control for
natural variations in complexion and skin tone from competitor to
But fake tans are just one of several contest day rituals. It’s a visual
identifier that you’re one of the people having a special day. You’re
doing all these unusual things with precision and care, and all together
they create a feeling of difference. If you just walked in off the street
and tossed off your shirt, it wouldn't feel the same at all.
How much does entering a competition cost?
Unfortunately this is not something that’s really doable if you don’t
have a few hundred dollars hanging around to devote to it. Registration
fees run about $120. You also need to be a member of whatever
federation is putting off the show, and that costs maybe $80 a year. The
tan costs about $120. You don’t need to pay for official stage photos,
but you’ll probably want to, and that’s another $120. Gym and food
costs too, although anyone who’s in a position to even consider doing a
show will be paying those already anyway. You don’t need a coach but
they certainly help, and they cost. Steroids cost, and they’re more or
less de rigeur at untested shows. Travel and hotel costs, if you’re not
local. My show was the lowest level competition, but it still drew people
from across Ontario. Basically, at the very least, you’re going to spend
How do you develop a posing routine? I would happily read
an entire essay about the aesthetics of the performance…
how you selected the music, how you choreographed your
posing routine, and so on.
I recorded an episode of my podcast, This Is Your Mixtape, all about my
song choice (I posed to Björk’s Pagan Poetry), so I would direct
folks there for more context and a deeper dive into my particular
choice. I’ve also adapted that episode into an essay, which you can
The one-minute posing routine is your only real chance to show some
personality in an event that is otherwise very much de-personalized. It
was the part I was most invested in, even if it actually counts for almost
nothing in terms of how you place, as I explained above.
For years I thought about what song I would pose to, when the idea of
doing a contest was more distant fantasy than realistic plan. I wanted a
song that would capture something of my personality and my aesthetic.
I wanted regal and graceful yet powerful. Björk’s song, with its icy
chimes and throbbing bass, was perfect.
I did not know how to pose at all, and posing is a vital skill. Someone
with a great body who can’t pose well will not do well in a bodybuilding
competition. So I hired a posing coach to teach me. I had four one-hour
sessions where he tutored me one-on-one, drilling me on the five
mandatory poses pertaining to my class. He also worked with me to
choreograph my routine.
He was very skeptical of my song choice, but I was adamant. I had a
particular vision of graceful power and the song got me there, mentally.
I knew I could pull it off once I had a handle on the physical skills, so I
practiced every night for weeks.
I’m pleased to say by the third session the coach was convinced — he
began to see what I was trying to convey. Most of the choreography was
from him — what poses to do, in what order, etc. And how to transition
between them! That’s very important, and if you watch the video you
can see I enjoy those moments. Look at the dramatic hand gestures. I
pretended I was casting spells. I am not joking.
Many people would feel weak or vulnerable being exposed
on stage like that. How did you get to a mental place of
being empowered and proud?
There's a wonderful quote from Carrie Fisher that sums up my attitude
toward this: “Stay afraid but do it anyway. What’s important is the
action. You don’t have to wait to be confident. Just do it and eventually
the confidence will follow.”
I have a background in theatre and music and performing arts. How did
I get confident enough to play the piano in front of a crowd, or to
perform in a Shakespeare play? I dunno. You do the practice and take
the advice of teachers/directors/coaches who know their stuff. You do
the work in the weeks before the big day. You identify your weak points
and your flaws and you work on improving them. Practice practice
Then when the day comes you put on your game face. You do your best,
and if you fuck up, so what? Keep going. Brazen your way through it.
That’s a skill my wonderful Grade Two teacher, Mrs. Whalen, taught
me. If I’m playing the piano in front of the class and I hit a wrong note,
don’t stop and say “oops!”— just keep on playing like it didn’t happen.
Most of the audience won’t even notice. Fake it till you make it,
Honestly, though, if you have a good muscular base built up, if you are
prepping correctly, and if you are in the hands of a good coach, your
body will be changing dramatically in the weeks leading up to the
show. This is very good for your confidence. Nine weeks before the date
of the show I was worried I wouldn’t get lean enough, or if I did get lean
enough I’d be too small. "TRUST THE PROCESS" was a mantra — do
the work and trust that the people guiding you won't steer you wrong.
Two weeks before the date of the show, I felt like taking my shirt off in
public constantly because oh my god I’ve got abs now — an entirely
novel experience for me, someone who has never before had abs. It’s
Anyway, being on stage at a bodybuilding show is a performance just
like being in a play or performing in a concert. I mean, long before I had
any muscles to speak of, I was half-naked on stage in a production
of Measure for Measure .
Confidence is a funny thing. Like Carrie said, if you act like you have it,
you'll get to a place where you actually do have it. That’s part of the
performer’s high — realizing how easy it is to turn fake confidence into
the real stuff.