Thursday, November 4, 2010

pass the smack...

There comes a time in every person’s life when you consider drugs.  Now I’m not talking hardcore shit; like smack, tik, crack or any other monosyllabic substance that could cause irreversible brain damage– just maybe a little something to enhance your 3D and, er... 4D experience.

Though I wish I could indulge you with some wild gossip about the concoction of Prozac, Paxil and Valium that I’m on, I must be honest. Other than my brief foray with an anticonvulsant - which I’ve been assured I actually needed - the only other drug I think I could have a successful long lasting relationship with, is sports stimulants.

A few months ago, a couple of friends of mine consulted with a woman who used to be a body builder and is now just your regular perfectly sculpted pain in the arse.  Including her advice on eating portions that are not larger than a thimble, she handed over a bottle (each) of “natural stimulants” which, supposedly, was to enhance their training. The next day, I read on facebook (the oracle of all personal revelations) how one of the girls in question had lost her mind after taking the “natural stimulant” and was still (24hrs later) crawling round on the floor trying to find it. The other reported that post dosage; her heart had actually popped out her chest and had offered to brew a cup of chamomile.  To this day I often find her mumbling the words to "pump up the jam".  Of course, she offered the rest of the offending bottle of drugs to me and I was keen to try it. Mostly because I’m curious, but also because I’m known to err on the side of recklessness.

I don’t take painkillers often, but when I do I like it to be a sure thing and pretty much triple the recommended dose. I also never bother with naff stuff like Panado and always reach for the drug with the biggest possible kick.  Pain isn’t one of those things I’m prepared to cock around with.  I had my doubts as to whether these “natural stimulants” would do anything for me at all. 30 min before my training routine, I popped one and waited 10 minutes.  Nothing.  Of course it doesn’t bloody work, I thought to myself. Was I actually expecting to morph into Jane Fonda immediately?  I chased the administered drug with my normal cup of coffee, thinking this might chivvy things along. Nope. Still nothing.

Having accepting that no transformation was imminent – I trudged off to the gym. Holy crap, then it happened. 10 minutes into my workout, the drug finally kicked in.  Before I knew it, I was snorting like a racehorse and was able to perform feats that havn’t yet been invented.  I think people around me were making the circle bigger for fear of me karate kicking the living daylights out of them.  Who knows what I sounded like; my heart was now firmly lodged in my eardrums so I had to turn my iPod up super-loud. I was focused, fierce, subtle and meant business. If I’d been brave enough to look in the mirror, I’m sure I would have seen my skin turn that extreme blotchy red that is not only fetching, but also wickedly sexy. I felt exceptionally light and then realized, there’s nothing natural about these drugs.  No siree. 

They must have had some vicious chemical in them, like a bad boyfriend who makes you feel horribly good for a while, then horribly bad for a longer while.  When I finally finished teaching those medicine balls a lesson, I floated to my car and took a look at my eyes in the rear-view mirror.  Pinpricks. Consider yourself warned. Beware of thermogenics, they’re not what they say they are…but boy they can make you dance.

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