There is no reason I could not mold myself into the model of physical perfection. I don't think I'm terribly far from my own ideal, relative to average... But this last bit of body fat is going to be hard to peel away. The muscle mass is easy to gain--it always has been. Trimming, though, is more difficult. It means I have to run, which I have never enjoyed. It means I have to stop eating the unnecessaries, though my diet is pretty spartan most of the time. And it means I have to run some more. Maybe I can fool myself into enjoying it. Maybe I can find ecstasy in the pain.
We shall see.
I realized recently that the perfect girl is out there... smart, gorgeous, interesting, confident, and quite possibly sane. I'd never believed it before, and if I ever entertained the possibility, I always dismissed her as taken, or out of reach. She is not. The truth is that I am pretty fucking incredible myself, as terrible as that sounds to say. She is attainable, if I am willing to make myself into everything I want in her.
Its not easy... Nothing special is easy. I can get whatever I want, if I'd just get off my ass and maybe comb my hair.
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