No, it doesn't stretch any bigger than that, so quit asking.

My trainer Jonathan is providing me with much more than eye candy and lessons on fitness.

After my chest felt ready to disintegrate and I could barely raise my arm to wipe the sweat from my brow, we went into Jonathan's office to measure my body fat and discuss my feelings toward the sessions so far.

Having noticed that Jonathan isn't a good listener, I tried to sound as forceful as I could. "Jonathan, the sessions are good but..." Oh no: I am hedging. Be forceful! "but I really don't want my arms to be any bigger. A lot of my shirts are pretty fitted, and the sleeves are just right. If my biceps grow larger, my clothes won't fit me."

Jonathan leaned forward in his chair and squinted. His mouth opened slightly, as if it were trying to formulate a question, but couldn't figure out exactly what to ask. "You mean your shirts don't stretch like this one?" he eventually asked as he pinched a section of his uniform and tugged at it to demonstrate the miracles of Lycra.

No, my clothes are made of natural fabrics: cotton, wool, linen, cashmere. They're not designed to expand, and if you force them to, they will not recover their original shape or size.

"No, they don't."

Jonathan was not to be deterred. "You don't need nice clothes for girls to like you. Yeah, they always talk about 'I want my man to dress nice,' but if you look good in a tank top--like I do--that's all they care about. Just buy yourself some more tank tops."

Maybe I'm not being forceful or descriptive enough.

"Jonathan: I have a closet at home full of very expensive clothes. I am not going to intentionally out-grow them so that I can walk around in tank tops. I spent too much on those clothes to stop wearing them."

He considered this point for a moment, then brought out his conversation-stopper, the smile. "You don't believe me? Look, when I go to the mall, I take my little sister with me, and I have her count how many girls check me out in my tank top as we walk around. I like going into Victoria's Secret with her, because that's where I get the most attention. See, you don't need expensive clothes to attract the ladies. Big guns are a good thing."

OMG, am I hearing him correctly? Is this a true story? If not, why would someone make up something about himself that's so narcissistic? If it is true, why would someone reveal it to another human being? Yes, he is gorgeous, but I don't know that even good looks can excuse that sort of behavior.

"Hm, okay, I'll think about that. But I really am happy with the size of my arms, so can you please not do exercises that will bulk them up?"

He chuckled and shook his head at my inability to understand the importance of "big guns."

Thanks, Jonathan, for the extra-contractual laughs, and for exposing me to a level of egocentricity previously unimagined by the human mind.