Bodybuilding, for all of the positive things that it has to offer a young confused kid stumbling around a weight room debating whether or not to do chest for the 14th straight day, does have a tendency to produce some Looney Toons from time-to-time. We all know who these guys are. They’re never quite as big or as shredded as they would like to believe, they probably drive a busted old Toyota Corolla that has a front dash covered in white powder like Will Ferrell’s car from The Other Guys because the lid to his shaker bottle wasn’t closed and he never bothered to clean it up, and he’s trying to hold onto his dream more desperately than the forty-five year old lady standing in line at an American Idol audition.
Now, if by chance you don’t know this guy, then the odds are you’re probably him. And if you haven’t figured it out by now then that probably means you’re either in denial or your friends and family all realize you’re a crazy person and are all too scared to tell you. Luckily for you I’ve come up with three sure fire signs to help you realize that your obsession with becoming the real life version of Mark Wahlburg’s character from Pain and Gain is not only not only unhealthy, but just like the movie (SPOILER ALERT), things aren’t going to end well if you keep this crazy train moving faster than Usain Bolt after spending a weekend with Charlie Sheen.
- When people ask you if you’re natural…and you’re not. – Could there be anything more depressing in your quest to become a human muscle machine than finding out that you paid your rent late, skipped out on anniversary dinner with your girlfriend, and have been “conserving gas” lately all because you sunk money into buying enough gear to supply the Russian National team only to find out that you still look like an upgraded swimmer? Yup, probably, but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t accept your fate and understand that your parents dealt you the genetic equivalent of a turd sandwich when it comes to muscle building genes. Your next logical move should be to do what many others with sub-par genetics have done before you, become a guru.
- When your real-life apartment looks like one of those old Animal Pak ads – You know the ones I’m talking about. The ads where Frank McGrath looks perpetually depressed because he lives in a two room shoebox that doubles as a place where roaches go to vacation. If this is you – over twenty-five and living in a place that screams my daddy didn’t hug me enough, smells like a combination of sweat and ass-milk, and has a stolen plastic patio set as your “dining room furniture – you have made some poor life choices my friend. It’s time to stop saying thing like “I’m just living the dream bro”, pack it in, get a real job, and face the fact that you are not going to become the next Jay Cutler.
- When you have more internet friends than you have friends in real life – Bodybuilders are usually a little bit weird by nature. And just like most other groups of weirdo’s they try to surround themselves with like-minded people that make them seem a little bit more normal by comparison. That’s where the problem starts. Because you’re too weird to make a lot of friends here in the real world, you resort to hiding out in your shoebox apartment having “conversations” with guys named BiGgUnZZz23 and lose touch with reality. That’s a problem. Being a stereotypical meathead is one thing. Being a socially awkward meathead leads to you mixing up a nice cocktail of SSRI’s with your whey isolate and before you know it you’re standing in the middle of the street directing traffic like Kali Muscle in that Geico commercial. No one wants that. Develop some social skills, get some normal friends, and save yourself from being the punchline of a Jimmy Kimmel sketch.
If you happen to fall into one, or most likely all three of these categories, you’re probably sitting at your computer shaking your head saying stuff like “No fucking way. Not me bro. I live for this shit.” That’s the problem. Bodybuilding is a lifestyle, but in no way, shape, or form should it be your life. The odds of you making a career, or any money what-so-ever from the industry for that matter, are about as high a sixteen year old kid with a backstage pass to a Wiz Khalifa concert. Do yourself a favor before it’s too late; get a job, get a girlfriend, and take up crossfit because the alternative is going to leave you worse off than Mickey Rourke at the end of The Wrestler. You’re welcome.