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Natalie was a year younger than me. We spent the same amount of time in gyms and fitness classes. I came out looking like a swimmer, but she came out looking like she could out bench any other kid we knew. And as we got older, she only got bigger. Some sisters like to borrow their brother’s T-shirts for a big and baggy look. Not Natalie. When she put on one of my shirts, they would stretch so tightly over her blown-out pecs and abs that it looked ready to tear. But I was totally supportive of her. In fact, as we finished high school and got into college, we shared an addiction: muscle growth. For me, it was an obsession from the outside looking in. For her, it became a way of life. It's like she never needed to rest. When we weren't in school, Natalie was either lifting weights or eating. She stay up well into the night, keeping me awake with the banging of weights, dropping them on the floor, grunting, groaning and growing. I have to admit, even though I knew it wasn’t quite right