I've Been There

Genetics were never on my side. (Well, not for fitness at least. I do have a thick head of insanely soft hair, so my genetics aren't all bad.)

I was always a bigger kid. And painfully aware of it.

Growing up, I was extremely self conscious about my size. Middle school made that even worse. Before Placerita Junior High School, I hadn't changed in front of anybody besides my older brother. And that was only because we shared a room.

But then I started 7th Grade.

We had PE every day where we'd change out of our school uniforms and into gym clothes. Every student out on the track, field, or in the gym sported the same cheap iron-on shirts and bright blue shorts. It was probably even less fashionable than you're imagining.

My self consciousness became more and more apparent every time I took off my shirt in the locker room. A lot of the other kids hit their growth spurts, got taller, lost fat, and built muscle. Meanwhile, I stayed round-faced, round bellied, and embarrassed.

I was a chubster. Always had been. Now I was painfully aware of it.

Sharing the locker room with Dan only made things worse.

He's a genetic freak. Athleticism is in his blood.

His dad played basketball and his mom was a track star.

In middle school, his brother was the star running back for the high school team. His sister ran track. And his oldest brother was off at Harvard on a football scholarship.

Yeah, it wasn’t just the athletic jackpot, they were geniuses too. He was barely even a teenager and already jacked. As if middle school isn't hard enough on self esteem and body image, I had to see a shirtless Dan every day. Us normal kids looked on in awe. Some guys even asked him to flex.

He'd squeeze his fists, his biceps would bulge, and they'd gawk. Then, in a voice that was equal parts excitement, laughter, and surprise, he'd add in, "and I don't even work out."

Jerk. Thanks for twisting that dagger, Dan.

It came naturally for him.

He won the genetic lottery and his prize was clear to see.

Then there's me.

I gain weight just looking at a piece of chocolate cake. And when I'd change for PE, my genetic curse was clear to see.

I had always known I was chubby. Big boned. Husky. (I used all those delicate descriptors.)

But then I learned it was worse. Much worse.

A Rude Awakening

It was the health screening day in gym class. Instead of the usual physical education, a service came to perform a basic check up on the students. It was pretty simple. We lined up and they tested us for things like scoliosis and lordosis, took our height and weight, calculated our BMI, and told us the results.

But what do middle school kids do when they're stuck in lines? They gossip. A lot. Anyone that waited in line to go see The Divergent Series knows that.

When you'd get back in line after a screening, the buzz was about who had scoliosis and who didn't...

"Did you pass?"

"Yeah."

"Jessie didn't."

Other people excitedly bragged about about how tall they were or how little they weighed. I stood in line quietly dreading my BMI calculation.

It was the last test. But regardless of when it happened, I knew my BMI wouldn't "pass." I hoped nobody would ask about it, but it was false hope. Everybody would.

When the time came, I nervously stepped up to the woman that held my fate—in the form of a chart—in her hands. I gave her the card that had my height and weight, she examined it, looked at her BMI chart, and gave me the news.

I wasn't just chubby. I wasn't just overweight.

I was borderline obese.

She could sense my devastation and tried to rationalize the results. She said it was just baby fat and it'd probably go away when I hit puberty. But I wasn't listening. Only one word bounced around my head—obese.

For a self-conscious chubster already ashamed to take off his shirt, hearing obese used as a description and classification crushed me. Even if it was borderline. I was a teenager but flirting with obesity more than Leah Powers. (Gotta love those middle school crushes, right?)

As I stepped outside, I was greeted with the question I hoped I wouldn't hear, "Whad'ya get?"

I shied away from answering. Which was an answer in and of itself. Everybody else bragged about being normal weight. And I avoided talking about it. I was embarrassed. Science just proved what I always feared to be true.

I was fat.

Not chubby, not big boned, not husky. Fat.

It hurt.

And it wasn't fair. People like Dan have a perfect body—without even trying. Meanwhile, I had a growing gut beneath baggy shirts and no matter how hard I tried, it wouldn't go away.

I exercised. I played sports. I even put Identity Crisis on and did endless crunches on my bedroom floor. Nothing worked. It never mattered how active I got, how much football I played, or how many crunches I did, nothing changed.

Fighting the chub was futile; a constant battle I always lost.

It was as if I was destined to be self conscious every time I took my shirt off in public. So I stopped. I starting wearing rash guards at the beach, at the lake, and even at the community pool.

Because I couldn't change how I looked, I covered it up.

For years, I wasted countless hours fighting that losing battle. It left me completely discouraged, fed up, and frustrated. I was ready to stop trying. But then I discovered the simple strategies that transformed my life.

The Discovery That Changed Everything

At first, I was doing what a lot of people do. I tore workouts out of magazines and asked my good friend, Google, for nutrition advice. Even though I gave it my all in the gym, I saw minimal results. And no matter how many carbs I cut, I never looked the way I wanted.

I was stuck.

And I remained stuck until I discovered science-backed strategies that let me start living and looking like the genetic freaks I used to envy. I…

• skipped breakfast every day.
• did about 45–60 minutes of cardio... per week.
• ate what I wanted—all my favorite foods that had been taboo in conventional diets.
• ate when I wanted—late at night, sometimes right before bed.

That's when things took off.

That's when I started beating my bad genetics.

I lost inches off my waistline. I packed on slabs muscle. And I developed a new brand of confidence. The embarrassment I used to feel at the beach became excitement. Where I once had rolls, I revealed ripples. I didn't just get in shape, I transformed. And my life has never been the same.

I discovered the simple strategies, backed by science, that took me (a natural chubster) and gave me the body I always wanted.

They worked for me.

They work for the people I help beat bad genetics, shed unwanted fat, and build lean muscle.

They'll work for you.

Plus, now I have years worth of experience helping hundreds of people. I've refined and perfected these strategies to maximize your results. They were effective for me, but now they're even more effective for you.

What You'll Get

• Customized training and nutrition programs.

No more cookie-cutter programs. These programs are custom-made to you.

• Personalized coaching.

No two people are the same. Different people need different coaching.

• Fitness on your terms.

No more scheduling nightmares with your trainer. Want to hit the gym at midnight? Go for it.

• Follow up and accountability.

This isn't a rotisserie oven—we won't set it and forget it. I'm here to make sure you're killing it every single week.