This morning I caught myself staring at a woman in the park. She wore those magical yoga pants that create tiny waists and the illusion that one is a spokesperson for the ab roller. My abs have been on a downhill slide for a few months now, but it seems as if they went into a complete free-fall last night as I slept. Things weren't always so glum. I used to be one of the lucky ones, being able to eat whatever I wanted without gaining a pound. That doesn't mean though that I have always just given into the decadence of sleeping late, drinking even later and skipping the gym. Good genes, a healthy appetite and vanity have gotten me where I am today...or was. Vanity kept me going to the gym year after year, and it has paid off, generally. The tragedy here is that we exercise day after day simply to maintain. The moment we come down with the flu or a case of the blues it's as if we've never seen the inside of a gym. When will we surpass the point of maintaining? Will it ever end, the endless climb toward better glutes? Will we ever attain our unattainable goal, or are we doomed to climb forever? When will be satisfied with who we are?
