It happened to Conan, and it almost happened to me.
Not too many years ago, when I spent a good deal of my time training for Iron Man Triathlons, and pumping iron for the sheer joy of bulking-up, I took great pride in my cut & trim physique. It pleased me to know that men envied me & women fantasized about rubbing oil on my abs & pecs. I sculpted my body like a Michelangelo of the flesh, and installed floor-to-ceiling mirrors throughout the house. My self-satisfaction was evident to all, my vanity supreme. I have albums filled with glossy photographed images of myself displaying the fruits of my total self-absorption:—>
But then I got lazy & careless, the thrill of having beautiful women fingering my deltoids & triceps faded, and I let myself go. Instead of jogging up mountainsides, smashing gigantic boulders to pieces with a nine-pound hammer & lifting Toyotas, I began to eat & sleep – eat & sleep was all I did, maybe watch a little TV. I grew soft and then flabby and then….I can’t bear to think about it!—>
Eventually my self-loathing convinced me to re-commit myself to getting, & staying, in shape. My good buddy Crazy Freddie gave me a work-out tape and I began following it religiously—>
And now, thank Adonis, due to the work-out and the massive ‘supplements’, I’m looking better than ever!—>