Muscles. Protein. Gains. Iron. Repeat. Success. These are the six words I have duct taped to the ceiling of my room, to remind myself of my goals. I fall asleep looking at them; I wake up looking at them. I even sleep looking at them, because I sleep with one eye open.

These are also the words I use as hash tags on the various social media posts I make to show the world I mean business when it comes to fitness. Follow me at @buffness, which if you can’t tell is a clever combination of the words ‘business’ and ‘fitness’ while simultaneously serving as a pun for the type of body I wish to carve for myself.

Recently I’ve been trying to expand my viewership. For some reason my flexing mirror pics haven’t been drawing in as many likes as usual, even when I squint my eyes, bite my lower lip and adjust lighting for the perfect shadows.

Therefore, I’ve decided to use the school newspaper as a new medium to thrust my Creatine-infused brawn into the public limelight. Sure, most people will roll their eyes, but when we’re all 85, they’ll be rolling in their graves and I’ll still be power-cleaning three sets of 220.

A lot of people tell me that they “didn’t ask to see their newsfeed overwhelmed with videos of my half naked body hammer-curling 45 pound dumbbells.” And I hear them; seeing my massive biceps can be an overwhelming experience.

Did I mention I lift? Here’s how you can be a circuit training, no spotter having, skull-crusher loving, hard hitting, heavy hoisting CrossFit hoss like me:

Begin by identifying a weight that looks painful, then grab one that’s 10 pounds heavier. Scrap everything anyone has ever told you about dense objects, because they’re dense objects.

For best results, you’re going to want to lean over with the dumbbell in one hand, bracing against a partner with the other. Then without warning, rip upward in a jerky, uncontrolled motion, keeping your legs stiff and focusing all the weight onto your neck and lower back.

You’ll feel the pain instantly, which is a good thing. “No pain no gain” is a common phrase among gym rats. I coined it, actually. When your body tells you to stop, that’s when you force out two or three more reps. I call ‘em super reps. Rearranged, that spells ‘supper’, because I eat those for dinner.

I lift three times a day, before every meal. To ensure I’m ready to go in the morning, I take two scoops of pre-workout before bed, one to stay in my target heart rate zone overnight, and another to keep one eye permanently fixed on my goals. The twitches that inevitably follow help me build the fast-twitch sarcomeres needed for my constant high-octane functionality.

Without fail, I have four raw eggs at every meal. To be honest I hate them because they taste like salty phlegm but it looks cool, you know? Besides steak, the rest of my diet consists of various vitamins, supplements and any other pills I can convince my insurance to pay for.

I wouldn’t lift as much as I do if social media didn’t exist. I’m fueled by haters, a low self-esteem and a strong desire to fulfill the image of a fratty, narcissistic, collegiate meathead. In conclusion, do you even lift? ‘Cause I do.