Dedicated to those who ”can’t find pants” that fit after squatting for 3 months.
You’ve read about it on the Internet.
You’ve read about it in the sacred muscle books.
You’ve heard others talk about it.
You were told there are alive witnesses.
You wanted to be one of them and signed the contract.
You followed the instructions to the letter. You put in the effort. You never missed a workout.
You were there when others were discount hunting in the mall.
You were there when Yeti approved snow was blocking the gym.
You were there when people were evaporating from the heat outside.
You were there when you were rich and when you were broke.
You were there when Becky said No to your proposal.
You were there when Becky’s friend said No as well.
You were there when your leg broke because you know that holding the squat rack is better than a doctor.
You were there when others were chasing skirts.
You were there slaving to your ambition while others were slaving to ungrateful bosses.
You kept on going there even though your family called you crazy.
You wanted to persevere until the end because this is what real men do.
You kept on lifting until your legs transformed into bio-forklifts.
You kept on pushing and pushing until every bone in your body had learned that heavy squatting is more important to you than walking in a straight line.
You kept on trying even though the bar was saying No.
You kept on grinding and grinding until there was blood on your face.
You didn’t give up even when gravity was whispering Die, Die, Die in your ear.
You kept on coming back because PRs were the only thing keeping you alive.
You were writing in your journal as though higher powers were guiding you.
You ignored everything else because there is no point in a squatless life.
You wanted to be a doer, not a spineless creature living in the movies and the books.
You didn’t listen to the haters trying to put you down.
You were on a mission that the modern nation of eBay hunters and plastic gatherers could never comprehend.
Your faith was increasing as you were getting closer to the end.
You were becoming a stronger version of yourself despite your fears.
Your pride upgraded when others couldn’t recognize you anymore.
”My new strength & mass scare them,” you thought.
The final was close. You were feeling anxious.
”Is this really the end? Am I going to succeed,” you asked yourself and tried to slow down time in your mind because you know that the chase is better than the catch.
You had become accustomed to the pain and didn’t want to let it go. You married it and formed a lifetime union.
”I would rather be dead than live without squat induced pain,” you wrote in your journal.
You wanted the dream to be infinite because all ends are sad, but a part of you was still curious.
You wanted to know how the movie ends.
On the last day of the program you woke up like it were your birthday, but it was better – you had gotten stronger, not older.
You went to the wooden wardrobe, took a pair of your favorite jeans and started dressing.
Something wasn’t right.
”Did somebody stole my jeans,” you wondered for a second before realizing that heavy squats were the reason.
”Your legs are massive know. There are no jeans that fit you. You did it,” said a voice in your head.
You went in front of the mirror because you wanted to see the final scene of the film.
The reflection hit you like a bat – a potato was looking at you.
You had gotten fat not big.
But you decided that fat is muscle and typed ”jeans for heavy squatters” in Google.
The rest you know too well.