Today, I went to a popular mall to buy me some weights for my minimalistic home gym consisting primarily of two adjustable dumbbells. The place was, of course, full of people walking around intoxicated by the type of fake hope only stores can provide. One of my instant observations was that the concentration of muscular dudes was pretty high. The mall was well loaded with men walking around with “shirt busting biceps”. They were usually accompanied by their skinny 95 pounds girlfriends, who seemed to prefer outfits revealing their underwear. I guess muscular dudes and mall sluts make for a good combination.
Ironically, this is the same mall I used to go to after some of my heavy squat workouts when I was a permabulker, trying to break the records naturally. On my way to the supermarket I experienced what people call déjà vu.
I have some serious history in that place. One time, after a heavy workout of course, I was very hungry and out of food. I was feeling uneasy because my muscle were “starving”. I didn’t want to lose all my gains. That’s a scary though when you are expecting steroid like muscle to grow on you very soon. So, what did I do? I headed straight to the supermarket, which in malls is conveniently below the ground floor. I decided to use the elevator because what appeared to be a good looking female specimen was waiting for it. This turned out to be a big mistake. The girl suddenly decided to go somewhere else, and I had to wait a long time for this thing to descend.
When the mall is loaded the elevator has no choice but to stop for suckers on every floor. I was mad. My muscles were literally evaporating by the second, but the people around did not seem to care. On each floor a new kind of humanoid was joining our group, which was already testing the limits of the ropes. Corporate jerks, spoiled fat kids eating ice cream with their noses, middle aged men with fat guts… I had to share air with all kinds of losers who were unable to see the importance of my mission.
“Catabolism, people! Google it! It’s a thing.”
Finally, I reached the supermarket, but there were more obstacles. The security guy wanted to check my backpack. They wouldn’t let me enter the facility without knowing that my backpack is free of products available in the store.
“Damn. More low life fools are trying to steal my muscles.”
After the check up I headed straight to the dead animals section. All I knew at the time was that protein equaled mass and meat equaled protein. As expected, the meat section was at the end of the store. I went their only to realize that the fuckers had rearranged the place.
“Could this day get any worse? By the time I can provide my muscles with the needed nutrients my gains will be long gone. Fuck it. I am taking whatever’s here”
I bought five large bananas and something protein loaded that I can’t quite recall. I think it was raw peanuts, but I am not 100% certain. Whatever it was, it was not nearly as memorable as the bananas which had Ronnie Colemanesque look to them.
“My troubles are going to lessen soon…”
There I was – sitting on a bench, eating emergency bananas, getting ready to watch my squat workout on an old digital camera. You see, back in the day I was serious about this thing. I used to record all of my working squat sets in order to make sure they are deep enough. Most of the time I was analyzing the footage while traveling on the bus to work, usually next to people who were not smelling so well – another kind of morons who did not get it.
This banana mall day was different. As far as I remember my training went just fine, but the workout failed to stop the immense amount of chaos and paranoia that was just about to enter my bloodstream. I felt an overwhelming feeling of loneliness, unrest and despair. This moment was one of those cold showers you receive without a warning – the original fear of life reminds of its existence once more.
“My life is not going that well. According to society’s expectations I am not a winner. It’s scary. What am I going to do?”
After a while the moment went away. It was time to catch the bus and spin the wheel once more. But hey – at least the clip showed that my squats were deep enough to count. That put a smile on my face, and my heart rate began to calm down.