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Summary
The diet helps. Shane has always been particular about food—apparently there was a lengthy phase in his childhood where all he ever wanted for breakfast was plain Cheerios with a glass of 1% milk, and would cry ceaselessly when it was something different—but now it feels justified. Necessary, even. His parents are on board with it, too, which is nice. (Well, his mom moreso than his dad, because he doesn't get it and keeps telling Shane shit like just give yourself a treat, which is stupid because the treat is when he wins a game because of how hard he's working. But his mom understands, knows what to order for Shane at restaurants, what to keep stocked when he visits home so there are no temptations.)
A lot of the stuff he's eating now is really gross, actually, but that makes it even better, somehow. If he enjoyed it then it would be too easy. This way he knows he's actually sacrificing something for the success he wants so badly.
He likes the control, over what he eats and how he works out. Likes to know that the tool of his body is being properly handled, so that if something goes wrong, on the ice, he has nobody to blame but himself.
