Abby Normal

The title of this post is a reference to the wonderful 1974 movie Young Frankenstein, directed by Mel Books and starring Gene Wilder and Peter Boyle. I don't want to be a young monster—or an old one—but I would like visible abs. When I was a boy I was skinny enough, but too much of a weakling. As an adult they have been hidden by a layer of fat.

When my father retired he bought a new car. His entire working life, every car he owned was second hand. Financially it made sense. He acknowledged that, but just once in his life, he said, he wanted to own a car that no one else had. It was a pride thing. Or perhaps a bucket list thing.

And that's how I feel about my abs. Just once, I would like to run onto a beach with a visible six-pack. I'd even take a four-pack. I don't think an eight-pack would be attainable and, well, a two-pack would hardly be worth the effort.

Then after my literal day in the sun, I can have a celebratory drink and meal and keep up with the exercise or just enjoy the memory of that day.

Of course, my dad hated the car. It was the last time he bought a new car. The salesman had him test drive a car which had all the extras his car did not. He was not fully aware of that and was very disappointed. But he did not regret his decision, which is the best way to feel about decisions—good or bad ones—in general.

And I won't regret the abs, which I already envision as I lie in bed prodding my stomach. The only regret I expect will be that I didn't make the effort earlier in life.