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The Official Maxim Field Guide To The Man-Boobs Of Wrestling

Your handy companion in times of wrestler he-cleavage uncertainty.

Good day, young wrestle-fan! As, of course, is any day on which one chooses to while away his time watching large, sweaty men pretend-pound each other to the delight of all assembled. Now, as a would-be connoisseur of the sport of professional wrestling, there are many important facts to learn so as not to mark oneself out as an ill-informed beginner. For example, did you know that “gorilla position” is the designated term for the area just behind the stage where wrestlers wait to make their entrance, and not the name of Beyonce’s favorite dance pose? It’s true! You will learn many such facts as you progress up the ladder of wrestling fandom, from lower rungs like, “What’s this you’re watching? Why are they pretending to fight each other with furniture?” to higher rungs, such as the fabled, “These are the 25 reasons why John Cena sucks and they’re all accurate and if you disagree you’re basically worse than Hitler.

Many of these facts, of course, can be broken down into various subcategories, and that is what we shall attempt here today. The subject at hand is, of course, Man-Boobs In Wrestling, and it is as vital as any other subject pertaining to the spectacle. Shirts are anathema to the pro wrestler; any combatant who covers his pectorals is viewed with fear and distrust by an audience, and rightly so, for the true pro wrestler proudly bares his breast, delighting fans with every thrust of the bust, every ripple of the nipple, every shudder of the udder. But how to know exactly what kind of man-boob you are witnessing, and more importantly, what they signify? Let this guide show you the way!


The Saggy Man Boobs:

Best Exemplified By: Dusty Rhodes

Appearance: Wilted and a little sad - formerly proud pectorals that have succumbed to gravity, age, and repeated slaps to the chest. A general drooping is accompanied by more pronounced sagging under the armpits, until the whole gives the impression of two limp balloons full of pudding, three weeks past its expiration date.

Role In Professional Wrestling: The saggy man-boobs are a signal that you are in the presence of greatness. In a sport dominated by the young(ish) and the healthy (relatively), the arrival of a pair of unashamedly saggy he-tits is a sign that their owner is a living legend, a fellow so incapable of not taking off his shirt and pummeling other men with his giant, meaty fists, that any attempt to force him into a tank top or some sort of large, grey maternity bra would be a quixotic folly. This is a man who has seen sights and fought battles that you would not comprehend, and you will give his withered teats the respect they deserve.


The Veiny Man Boobs:

Best Exemplified By: Scott Steiner

Appearance: Unsettlingly unnatural-looking, like an ill-thought out breast augmentation on a too-skinny model. They will sometimes appear flat and stretched across the owner’s upper trunk; at other times, bunched up like an arthritic fist inside a brown rubber sock. In both cases, you will spy the network of ropey veins bulging under the surrounding skin that give this genre their name.

Role In Professional Wrestling: Veiny man-boobs are there to remind you of one thing, and one thing only: This man before you is a monster. It takes a special kind of dedication to work out to the point where there is no room left in your body for veins, and an even more special kind of fearlessness to ignore the signs that your skin may be about to split in half like an overstuffed sausage. Your man-boobs are made of flesh and blood – this man’s are made of raw willpower and insanity.


The Jumbo Man Boobs:

Best Exemplified By: Nelson Frazier, Jr., AKA Big Daddy V, AKA Viscera

Appearance: Gargantuan; enormous; an epic, gelatinous ruination of the human body; spongy, colliding planets that move with the vast, tidal ripple of a hippopotamus masturbating on a waterbed. Big, essentially.

Role In Professional Wrestling: The opponent with jumbo man-boobs represents nature in all her raw fury - an immovable tree that cannot be felled one moment, a raging typhoon of wobbly slaps the next. The possessor of such a mighty bosom will find himself the natural nemesis of the current favored strongman – a final test of the young hero’s prowess as he proves his worth by picking up the mammoth-mammary’d man-mountain and, just as his ancestors did, body slams him into the center of the mat partway through a moderately expensive pay-per-view event. It’s like a modern retelling of The Aeneid, only with more jiggling.


The Perky Man Boobs:

Best Exemplified By: Heath Slater

Appearance: Discomforting. The perky man-boobs cause the spectator to turn away in surprised embarrassment at first, covering their eyes in the manner of a parent who’s just accidentally witnessed their 12-year-old daughter pop out of her training bra, before remembering, wait, this is actually a man in front of me, albeit a man with jaunty, hairless he-teats and rosy pink nipples. And then still not really wanting to look.

Role In Professional Wrestling: Quite honestly, there is neither reason nor excuse for this type of man-boob. They are an abomination in the eyes of both man and God and should be abolished forthwith so we can all stop being utterly freaked out by their pert, shiny weirdness.


The Divided Man-Boobs:

Francis Specker/ Landov | Licensed to Alpha Media Group 2013

Best Exemplified By: Brock Lesnar

Appearance: At first glance, confusing; upon second look, terrifying. The nipples glare at the floor, shamefaced, as a harsh, chiseled line splits the pectorals in half horizontally across the middle. The he-breasts are no longer entirely distinguishable from the rest of the chest, as the upper torso has been overdeveloped to the point of resembling a Jell-O mold filled with Spam.

Role In Professional Wrestling: Similar to the veiny man-boobs, only to a much more frightening extent. While the veiny variety show a callous disregard for the limits of the human body, the divided man-boobs spit in the eye of evolution itself. “Oh!” they sneer at the assembled crowd. “Did you think you all had to be roughly the same shape? That your head had to be separated from your torso by something called a ‘neck’? Fool! See how I have created two entirely separate pairs of man-breasts on my own body! Yes! Yes! Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair! For I have broken nature itself in my quest to lift increasingly large things over my head!” They are a humbling yet disturbing sight, and like all good monsters, force us to ponder the very nature of our own humanity.


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