Skinny Boy ✔

Chapter 7: steroids

Remember me saying something about doing things in our lives or changing the way we live because we think it will help us to improve? This was definitely one of them. 

Two months of slaving over exercise machines, two months of becoming a slave to my mind. Our bodies are already slaves to our minds as it is, save for the necessary instincts and reactions that keep you from putting your hand on the stove for long enough to damage it. But to an extent, our bodies are already slaves to our minds, and our very will. 

But in some bizarre circumstance, I became a slave to my own mind, stuck in a seemingly endless loop of rinse and repeat. But who cares how it started; because when it really began to take a sharp turn down Insane Avenue was when I was at wits ends with myself, and finally mustered up whatever courage and shame I had buried in myself to go ask one of the regulars I saw nearly everyday at the gym a question that had been on my mind for a long time by now. 

"How can I get gains like you?" I asked the dude as he took a swig of his drink. His muscles were so large it almost looked like his tattoos were going to either jump off his skin, or rip in half. 

He pinched his eyebrows together, swallowed the liquid in his mouth, and spoke. His voice was that of a giant: the lowest, gruffest sound you could come across. "What do ya mean?" His eyes slipped from mine for a second to give me a quick one-over. 

I felt so exposed and insecure, I might as well have been naked. "Like, what supplements or regimen can I use to get max results?" 

He folded his hands and let out a sigh, throwing a quick glance over each of his shoulders. "Listen, kid. To get gains like mine, you need serious dedication. You need to make this your life. You need to make the gym your home." 

I nodded eagerly. Seeing that I wasn't discouraged by his words and he still had my full attention, he continued, "You also need to take some really risky measures to get here." 

I tilted my head. "What do you mean by risky?" 

"I mean things that can get you into serious trouble if you get caught." He watched quietly as someone passed by us, starting again only when they were far enough. "Things like steroids." 

The very word should have made me question what I was doing at this point. In fact, I should have been turned off by the very mention of it being something risky. But I didn't turn around and walk away, even though I should have heard some faint whisper of common sense in my mind to do so. 

I was too far into this mindset to hear such common sense at this point. I was too far into this whole thing, whatever it was, to turn back now. 

So I just listened, asked a few more questions, and went home that day with a couple tips for lifting, an acquaintance, and the number of someone who could get me steroids. 

Snapshot. 

~

I shut the bedroom door behind and locked it. I wasn't taking any chances at getting caught with what I was doing. Unlike my hours of exercising day in and day out, and my dedication to counting calories and protein and carbs, this was something I had a legitimate reason to be ashamed of. It was illegal, and even my twisted mind knew that it was wrong. 

But all that shame and guilt was swept away by a wash of obsession at the sight of the bottle in my bag. I sat it atop my shelf and looked through my bag again until I found the paper describing how to take the pills. 

A new section to my routine. 

Starting the next day, I would begin my first cycle of anabolic steroids. Something that made me both nervous and excited. Like a roller coaster ride. 

I knew they wouldn't give me the results I truly desired--the man who sold them to me made sure to inform me that I would get more efficient results through the injectables, but I still refused. I wanted to give these a try before jumping to needles. Not only was I a wimp over needles, but I was also paranoid about getting some trace of AIDS from an unclean needle. 

Hey, if I'm buying from someone who's selling illegal substances, you don't know for sure what's happened to those things! 

But until the morrow came, I preoccupied myself with filling out my charts, checking the boxes to my routine, and figuring out a safe place to keep these pills until the anticipated time to take them. 

~

I was listening to music with my headphones on, trying to unwind for the night when my phone buzzed with a message. I paused the song and clicked into the text I'd received from Henry. 

Henry:

You wanna hang tmrw? I'll buy you lunch if you tolerate a chic-flick ;) XD

I sighed, setting the phone down to rub at my eyes. I was exhausted both mentally and physically. I didn't feel weak, just drained. Finally, with another exasperated sigh, I picked up the phone again and typed in my answer. 

Me: 

Sorry, I can't :/ 

Her reply came in almost immediately. 

Henry: 

Why not? 

Me: 

Homework. Sorry. 

Henry: 

You say that every time anyone asks to hang out

I know it's not just me you keep telling that to. Garret said you've hardly talked to him either. You keep giving him the same excuse too

Her answer took me aback. I wasn't expecting her to retaliate; she usually just let things go as they went, and said okay until the next time around. I was glad that she said that via text, though. With the way my hormones had been those past two weeks since starting a cycle, I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't have said something I'd regret if she said that to me in person. 

Me: 

I've had a lot of schoolwork to work on. I'm trying to bring my grades up and there are a lotta tests coming up. 

It was true: there were a few tests coming up, with it being the end of the school year and all. But come summer break, and I needed a new go-to cop out. 

Henry: 

I get that, but it shouldn't take up every minute of your life. You're gonna burn out if you don't take a break. 

You've been a little off this month

Are you ok?

Normally, those words would have made me feel loved, cared for, even important, especially coming from such a close friend. But that day, kind words that showed someone cared only ticked me off. 

How dare she think I'm not okay? How dare she think my way of living is unhealthy? How dare she accuse me of not acting like myself? I am acting like myself, I'm just becoming a better version of myself! 

Maybe I thought those things not because she said something, but because deep down inside, past the persistent voices pushing me to do better, to become more, beyond my obsessive train of thought, I actually believed her. Maybe the truth made me angry. 

Or maybe it was just those damn pills. 

Me: 

I'm good. Just been busy with photography n stuff. Maybe next week? 

Not next week, so long as I had an excuse. 

Snapshot.