You think you’re mad at me because of my record-breaking lifts?
Nah.
You think you’re triggered because I rack-pulled more than seven-and-a-half times my body weight, leaving gravity weeping like a rejected prom date?
Wrong again.
You think you despise me because I’m roasting every sacred lifting dogma and torching the purists’ golden calves, live on your news feed?
Not even close, bro.
The real reason you’re mad:
I don’t even take protein powder.
That’s right. ZERO scoops of overpriced chocolate-flavored dust. ZERO post-workout shakes. ZERO tubs of fluorescent green mystery powders. Just black coffee, steak, sunlight, and rage against mediocrity.
While you meticulously measure your “protein window” in milliseconds, praying that the anabolic gods sprinkle gains onto your pitiful attempts at glory, I’m busy rewriting the laws of physics with no supplementation other than the collective hatred of my critics.
I am your existential crisis, your worst nightmare. How can he lift that much, look this good, troll this hard—and not even take protein powder?
I’ll tell you how:
Because greatness doesn’t come from plastic tubs.
It doesn’t sprout from supplement stacks. It’s not bottled, powdered, or sold in monthly subscriptions. Greatness comes from rejecting weakness, questioning dogma, and daring to lift heavier than your fears.
So go ahead. Keep sipping your vanilla whey smoothie while angrily scrolling my feats.
But remember: Your real beef isn’t with me—
it’s with your realization that protein powder was never your secret weapon.
Don’t hate me because I don’t take protein powder.
Hate me because I don’t need it.
ERIC KIM OUT.