This is another story about a co-worker of mine. The guy was a metrosexual semi-delusional natural bodybuilder born with the wild spirit of a skirt chaser. Thanks to him I was able to gather a little more insight about the brain mechanisms of those who lift primarily to increase their reproduction practice time.
Women will always be a factor in men’s decision to start training, but in this case I am talking about a person, who considers having a physique swallowing female attention like a vacuum cleaner number one priority in his life.
Since this man was a classic metrosexual, he was always serving religiously the big three pillars of metrosexuality – shaving, tanning and bulging biceps for the bitches. Without a doubt the guy’s attempt to become a legendary womanizer was successful, especially when he was in his 20s. I’ve worked in one office with him for many years and had the chance to hear a wide variety of stories revealing his adventures along the complete pussy spectrum – from young to mature to things I don’t want to talk about.
One way or another, his system was working.
I wouldn’t say he was enormously muscular to be honest. His legs were, of course, thin and even today he could pass for a natural in my book. His biggest strengths were his vascular arms and overall leanness. He was probably about 8% body fat.
Rumor has it the guy was also no stranger to recreational drugs and getting drunker than Charles Bukowski, which leads me to believe that steroids were not entirely out of the picture. Nevertheless, he was definitely behaving like a delusional natural and was not a professional model by any means.
One time I went to the kitchen of the office to get my head working again. That day my brain was feeling like a chewing gym from looking at a cheap 15 inch monitor (thanks, boss!) for hours. I was about to drink some water when I saw something magical. It took me almost a minute to realize what I was actually observing. From the side I looked like a caveman who sees a gas lighter for the first time. I will never forget that moment. I was witnessing pure muscle alchemy taking place in front of me.
Next to the sink were two glasses full of bright and colorful mixtures.
Where were I? Was this the laboratory of a mad scientist?
My concentration was intense and I was unable to hear the outside world. The dust particles moving chaotically from side to side were hypnotizing and mystifying. The sight before my eyes was real-time morphing of an authentic muscle elixir. At the very bottom of the left glass I identified a breathtaking image – the residue had formed two figures resembling otherworldly ghost like creatures.
What were those? Amino acid angels?
The door of the fridge was not entirely closed, and I was able to see partially two bottles containing muscle supplements – creatine and protein powder. This is when I realized what was going on. Somebody from the office was trying to get huge. At the time I was still in the early stages of my muscle journey and was inclined to believe in the immense power of protein and creatine dust.
A couple of minutes later, the door of the kitchen opened and my metrosexual colleague entered. His eyes and body language helped me read his thought, which was rather simple – “I am about to get bigger. I just have to mix this stuff properly.”
In his hands he was holding a bottle of glutamine and a transparent protein scoop. I guess he was preparing a special muscle formula meant to win him the fight against afternoon muscle catabolism, and I just happened to be there in middle of the process. The guy didn’t even look at me, although he definitely noticed my presence. You can always feel when somebody is interrupting your muscle rituals. Bodybuilders tend to be extra-sensitive to other people’s looks. Still, he restarted the preparation of his muscle wizardry without showing signs of turmoil. His gestures were more than clear that he was full of life and really enjoying the moment.
A few minutes later, all three cups containing protein, glutamine and creatine were ready. He drank the mixtures in an instant and put the cups back down on the table one by one with a passionate bang, which made the table vibrate. The culmination was one of those: “Ah…..yeah!” which in this case was short for “Hell, yeah, motherfuckers…who is the king now?”
He looked at me and said:
“Want to get huge? I can make you huge? In fact, I can make your arms big to the point where this T-shirt does not fit you anymore,” said Mr. MetroKing.
He was probably looking for one of those “teach me master, please” moments to increase the values of his shares. The ego always thrives when its owner is treated as a master. Unfortunately, it was not going to happen, because I am a hardheaded hate king.
I also love wearing big baggy clothes because I feel I can hide behind them.
Therefore, I looked at my T-shirt, which was enormous – XXXL, and smiled. In order for that shirt to start feeling tighter I needed some serious real estate – at least 18-19 inch arms. I want to believe…
“Do you think those powders are that effective,” I said with my usual mean and hating ton that puts off people quite easily.
“Of course, bro. Look at my arms.”
He flexed his arms and they really appeared humongous and super lean. Both heads of the biceps muscle were visible, which is way more impressive than having a six pack if you ask me.
“Damn, that’s massive,” I exclaimed while checking the time on my dumb-phone (the older brother of the smartphone)
The truth is that his arms were not that big in circumference. Probably 15 inches, maybe 15 and a half.
Don’t worry! I already know that many people on training forums will call that small. After all, everybody on the Internet has lean 18 inch, soon to be 19, arms…ALL NATURAL, of course. The truth, however, is that most people living in the real world would kill for the arms of Mr. MetroKing.
“Thanks man. It’s all about lifting regularly and proper supplementation,” replied the guy.
Then, he put his magic dust in the fridge and took off with a walking style saying “I own the place”.
Most likely he copied it from a movie.
Later, when I became more informed on the subject of natural bodybuilding and had experience to back my conclusions, I realized that stories like that are emblematic for natural bodybuilders who keep on pounding the iron day after day, only to look exactly the same years later.
While my co-worker definitely had a functional for his goals body, he didn’t change much either. I saw him five years later and he was still exactly same size, although he looked smaller to me because I was already used to the gorilla chemists in the gym and on YouTube.
The failure of natural bodybuilders is partially due to poor training with baby weights, but there are also incredibly dedicated individuals who are doing everything right and still get nowhere as far as muscle size is concerned.
Every time I see a natural bodybuilder rushing to the protein bar after a workout, I question his mental heath and ask myself whether this is dedication or pure mental illness? You have to be a little sick to keep hitting the wall with your head time after time, don’t you think? I believe that natural bodybuilders who continue to live for pipe dreams despite the lack of results, could very well be considered mentally ill. Any sane person will sooner or later ask the question: “Where are all my efforts and protein dust going? Where are the muscles I am paying for?”
I have asked myself this question many times during my lifting crises. After a while I had no choice but to accept the fact that natural bodybuiling is what it is. Now, I just lift for the health and strength benefits. All else seems delusional to me.
With that said, a good argument can be made that the truly mentally ill people are the steroid users who are essentially drug slaves. Everything those guys do is dictated by the needle. The large doses of anabolic steroids and the growth hormone are the creditors who give you an imaginary loan, only to steal your whole country later on.
The life of a bodybuilder is not as happy as we believe. They all smile in the magazines, but I can see through the glossy pictures and digitally edited pictures. I know they are hiding a lot – the insomnia, the acne, the frequent blood checks, the drug bill, the hair loss, the age facing….Who’s the crazy person now?