chapter 2

The next time I saw Robin, he still had a fabulous body. He appeared to be much happier too as he tucked into a hearty plate of steak and chips with lots of gravy. I still assumed he'd given up the competitions, but he told me he hadn't. He'd simply found a training regime that suited him better.
I watched him finish the steak and then eat a substantial pudding, washed down with two pints of Guinness. Meanwhile, we discussed the other contenders. Robin was very confident in himself. He was going to win!
The next day, backstage, the other competitors were doing last minute press ups and stretches to keep their muscles warm. Robin stood and watched them as if they were idiots as he found somewhere to sit down. He watched them sweat nervously, while he put his feet up and cracked open a can of Coke.
He performed with more confidence than he'd ever had. Then while other competitors rehydrated and fuelled up with carefully measured pieces of chicken, he sat back, took the wrapper off a bar of chocolate and ate the whole thing. Meanwhile, he was watched enviously by the other competitors.
Robin bragged about how revolutionary his new regime was. He said there were no restrictions. He did not have to fuss over every calorie. He did not have to calculate his protein intake. He did not have to restrict his fluids or ban certain food groups from his diet.
He could eat anything he liked, and as much as he liked. He repeated that. He could eat ANYTHING!
Yet he would still maintain his fabulous physique.
Even better than all that, he confessed, he did not have to spend hours in the gym, repeatedly lifting heavy weights. His muscles did not ache all the time. He could spend quality time in the company of others, enjoying himself. He didn't have to think about keeping fit at all. His body knew what to do. He could stay away from the gym for weeks and still maintain his fitness.
He won that competition. He celebrated with a three course meal in the hotel restaurant, including champagne, wine and cake.
The next morning, I saw him consume a massive breakfast from the buffet. He must have refilled his plate three times. Then he invited himself over to my studio to get some pictures taken.
He ate a 'sharing' sized bag of crisps while I finished setting up.
Yet, when he took off his tee shirt, there was no telling bulge there betraying how gluttonous he'd been at breakfast. His stomach was perfectly flat - or as flat as it was ever going to be considering his musculature.
I studied the photographs with a magnifying glass later on. There was no stomach bulge.