Most people, while under stress, gain weight. I, on the other hand, lose it. After several months of producing I Love Your Work, I therefore noticed I had dropped down to the bottom reaches of my acceptable weight range. Which is why, about a month back, with beach season (or, at least, bicep-baring t-shirt season) fast encroaching, I figured it was time to hit the gym with the intent of bulking up. The plan in a nutshell:

1. Join a gym. Mid-City Gym (49th and 8th), being two blocks off and $45 a month, seemed the right choice. Sure, it’s short on glitz and Tae-bo compared to the $150 a month gyms nearby, but as the former New York training ground of such heavies as Ah-nold and Lou Ferrigno it certainly seemed good enough for my cause.

2. Lift weights. As it’s worked for me before in packing back on the pounds, following the Hardgainer approach of short, intense, infrequent workouts with heavy weights.

3. Eat a lot. Building muscle requires a caloric surplus, something my metabolism, which runs at a rather disturbingly fast rate, works hard to prevent. (As one friend pointed out, since research in rats has shown slowing metabolism extends lifespan, given the speed at which mine burns, I’ll probably keel over by the time I hit thirty.) I already tend to naturally eat five or six meals a day; bulking up mainly involves increasing the size of each feeding. Thank god for FreshDirect.

The results? One month in, and I’ve packed on nearly ten pounds of muscle while keeping my body fat below 10%. Still, I’m thinking I’ll keep adding weight for a bit longer, just to see where it takes me. While I have no desire to hit anything close to the steroidal bodybuilding look, as Stallone (the same height as I am) was a good fifty pounds beyond my current weight back in his Rocky days, I think I still have a fair bit of leeway before I’m mistaken for Hans or Franz.