Normally when someone meets a person, they notice their eye color or maybe their bushy eyebrows or other oddities. But when I met Chad Herr, a personal trainer assigned to me by my summer lacrosse coach, the only thing I could see was his biceps––they were literally the size of my face.
As I stared, I imagined myself looking somewhat similar. I think he noticed because the next thing he asked me was “So I hear you wanna get big?” I was in awe. And my journey into pain, stretch marks, and heavy footsteps all started with the next few words, “It would be nice, I guess.”
Soon after, I was put on an outrageous weight plan––4,500 calories a day (A calorie count which is only seen by the likes of Michael Phelps during the Olympics, or one of those 650 pound people who can’t get out of their bed on National Geographic.) I was told never to worry about the food I eat unless I begin to get fat.
Chad gave me a box of protein bars, each containing 29 grams of protein: over half the recommended daily amount, in one bar. With flavors ranging from “Sweet n’ Salty” to “SUPER Cookie Crunch,” I embarked on my journey to manhood with my box of protein bars and a dream––to gain 25 pounds.
He told me I should eat a pizza before I go to bed each night. High in protein, a little fat, and lots of calories––the perfect recipe for an additional pound or two in the morning. I took his advice, but to my dismay, I just couldn’t do it. Night after night I would literally try to eat an entire pizza, I would get close but felt like a failure as I stared at the remaining three pieces of meat lover’s pizza on the plate.
For lunch every day, I get two cheeseburgers, a large chicken caesar salad, two Gatorades, and a cookie if I feel like it. Even though I get stared at by all the freshman girls wondering if I have an eating disorder, it’s worth the high-five I get from those massive arms of Chad when I add on some weight from the previous work out.
My friends and teachers have noticed as well, except they tell me that they are worried about my social life and my health. They see me sitting alone at the lunch table, as I have no time to talk, only stuff my face as much as possible in the short, inadequate 20 minutes I have. But I ignore their warnings, and their insults of “I don’t see you getting any bigger…” only add fuel to my hefty fire.