10 things cocky gymnasts like to say
Pre-Workout
“You think you know what it takes to fuel this machine? My pre-workout smoothie is handcrafted by a culinary genius—Michelin-starred, obviously—using goat’s milk from a herd in the Andes. They only drink glacier water. The protein? Sourced from Madagascar’s rarest plants, harvested by a tribe that only shares it with elite athletes. Every sip is like drinking the essence of a champion. Oh, and there’s a dash of unicorn pollen—it’s a family secret. You could say I’m not just preparing my body; I’m preparing greatness. Honestly, it’s a crime more people don’t know about this.”
The Routine
“Other gymnasts have routines, sure. But mine? It’s a symphony. I don’t even *practice* it anymore—it’s just instinctual perfection. The balance beam doesn’t challenge me; it’s honored to support me. When I vault, NASA calls because they think I’ve redefined gravity. My floor routine? Let’s just say Cirque du Soleil has been leaving voicemails non-stop. When I dismount, judges aren’t just scoring—they’re witnessing history. Most people have moves. I have moments. Moments that will echo through time. The floor? It’s basically my stage.”
Training Regimen
“My training regimen? You couldn’t handle it. It’s custom-built for my body’s peak capabilities by a team of scientists from MIT, NASA, and, you know, some shadowy government program no one talks about. I train at 3 a.m. to capture the Earth’s purest gravitational forces. My strength routine includes lifting hand-forged iron weights flown in from a Siberian monastery. My flexibility? Achieved through ancient contortion techniques known only to a secret sect of Tibetan monks. I don’t ‘train.’ I evolve.”
The Leotard
“My leotard? It’s not just a piece of fabric—it’s engineered for aerodynamics, made from a blend of silk spun by genetically superior spiders and a polymer developed in a Swiss lab. It reduces wind resistance by 35%. Oh, and the color? Designed by an exclusive Parisian fashion house—only two exist in the world. I’d tell you about the gemstones, but you wouldn’t appreciate them. People say they can feel the aura of dominance when I walk into the gym. That’s not by accident. My leotard commands respect.”
The Coach
“Let’s get something straight—my coach is more like my personal oracle. He’s trained Olympic champions, yes, but they were stepping stones. I found him in a remote Himalayan village where he was meditating in silence for six years, waiting for a prodigy like me. He doesn’t *train* me—he unlocks the cosmic secrets of gymnastics that the world isn’t ready for. Other gymnasts have coaches. I have a shaman. It’s not even fair, really.”
Medal Collection
“Most people have trophies. I have a gallery. A gallery so vast, the Louvre once asked if they could borrow a few pieces for a ‘modern excellence’ exhibit. I declined. The Olympic medals? They’re not just symbols of victory—they’re relics of my legacy. They’re displayed in a vault guarded by lasers, and yes, one of them is a platinum-plated medal, because gold just felt so… *basic*. I’m basically competing against myself at this point.”
Diet
“My diet isn’t just nutrition—it’s alchemy. Each meal is designed by a Michelin-starred chef who also has a PhD in molecular gastronomy. My breakfast consists of ethically sourced, cage-free quail eggs cooked at exactly 63 degrees Celsius, served with microgreens grown in the Amazon under the supervision of a world-renowned botanist. My post-workout meal? Wagyu beef massaged daily, flown in from Japan, with a side of kale that’s watered only by glacier melt. Nutrition is an art, and my body is the canvas.”
Mental Game
“Mental toughness? Mine’s on another level. I once meditated for so long, the Dalai Lama asked me for tips. I visualize my routines with such clarity that reality often just aligns itself with my thoughts. During competitions, I don’t even hear the crowd—I’m in a Zen state so deep, I could solve quantum physics equations mid-routine. I’ve reached a level of mental mastery where even stress is too intimidated to show up. It’s not just focus—it’s enlightenment in leotard form.”
Fan Reactions
“When I compete, the audience doesn’t just watch—they *experience* me. I’ve had fans openly weep after my routines, and I’m not talking about casual fans—I’m talking about hardened sports journalists who have covered four decades of competition. I’ve seen judges hesitate to score me because they didn’t think numbers went high enough. People say witnessing my routine is like watching a comet streak across the sky: rare, beautiful, and slightly terrifying in its brilliance. Standing ovations are nice, but at this point, I’m expecting *parades*.”
Post-Competition Life
“Once I retire—which, let’s be real, won’t be for a long time because perfection takes time to phase out—I’ll probably take up something easy, like becoming a world-renowned architect or solving climate change. I’ve already been approached by several global organizations—think UN, NASA, that level—about consulting on various world crises. And no, I won’t just disappear. I’ll be a legacy. Generations from now, there will be documentaries, statues, and possibly a line of action figures. I’m basically the Michael Jordan of gymnastics, if Jordan could do a triple backflip off a 4-inch beam.”
