29
It’s Friday. I’ve been working out like a fiend. Writing secret codes on my calendar, keeping track of number of reps, size of weight, what I’m eating—all of it. I am my own project. I am that guy in Heaven Can Wait looking at his whole body situation thinking, “What can I do to rebuild this?”
One thing I can do is eat. I’ve been pounding back the milk, yogurt, beans, spinach, oatmeal, fruit, salads. I know my muscles would be thrilled to get some meat in there, but I can’t bring myself to eat it. I don’t know if I ever will be able to again. For now, we’ll have to get by on eggs (which I don’t mind) and tofu (ditto).
I am back on top in my classes. Other than calc, where Mayer totally kicks my butt, I am clearly the winner in preparation, quiz-taking, and—face it—style. I’ve stopped
