SIX is the number. I'm happy with FOUR.

It’s a strange coincidence how two of my favorite bloggers came out with posts both involving the “pandesal” last week. RainB’s story mentioned the Filipino breakfast staple in a heart nourishing way, while Mandaya’s take on the on the matter dwelled on a certain part of the human anatomy. Well, I too have something to share on the subject which revolves more on the latter.

 

Three years ago, I embarked on this quest to acquire a coveted pack of pandesals. Six to be exact. What a long and painful struggle it has been. I sure wish it were as easy as getting a pack of cigarettes, beer or underwear. But yeah, this one certainly connects quite well to the last item.

 

The very first Marky Mark Calvin Klein underwear Ad. 

(Okay, hold on. Before I detect any eyebrows raising, there was strictly no malice involved posting my pics together with the underwear icon. It was purely done to help get my message across. And to give in to some wishful thinking, hehe) 

Calvin Klein made a killing selling his line by accessorizing them with Marky Mark’s cheese-grating abdominal muscles. And almost instantly, life for mere mortals like me became more difficult as soon as the ads and billboards came out. The era triggered an explosion of men, as well as women who would kill to possess the sculpted abs (on themselves and for their suitable partners). Hence, the label “killer abs” found its way to mainstream.

It wasn’t very long ago that I decided to join in with the frenzy. Unlike clothes or accessories, I knew this trend would never go out of style. It doesn’t bear a hefty price tag either. It’s all a labor of love. Unless of course you take the easy route and run off to your plastic surgeon and have him slice you up and implant those plastic/silicon thingies into your tummy. I’d never go that way though. By the time you hit your 60’s, these things would be dangling right beside your testicles.

After three years of grueling hours at the gym, record breaking sets of crunches and sit-ups and tubes of toning creams, this is the closest I got to the goal:

 

Pattaya, Thailand. January, 2008.

Upon closer inspection, my senses tell me that I’ve only managed to achieve four out of the desired six. Disappointed? Absolutely not. It’s a well known fact that some bodies are just not anatomically “cut” out for it, while some bodies are simply born with it. Doesn’t it just get you looking at the gifted ones displaying their wares they never had to sweat for? Grrr! 

Well, I’m definitely proud of myself considering that when I started this crusade, I knew it was going to be a loooong shot, almost an unimaginable feat. But at the back of my mind, I just wanted to try and push myself and see how far I’d go.

Folks, I never imagined doing a before and after section in any of my posts, but I guess there’s a first for everything. Voila!

        Boracay. June, 2006.                                  Me now. 

I once lost a friendship because I unwittingly told him, “You shouldn’t be caught dead in your Billabongs with your love handles hanging”. It was honestly said in jest and I never imagined he’d take it as a personal blow since all the while I considered him a close and long time friend. Next thing I knew, I’d been reduced to a shallow and pathetic individual in this (ex)friend's eyes. 

I know it’s real easy to judge people by gauging them on their narcissistic tendencies. I’m pretty sure I’ve made myself vulnerable again with this post. As a parting note, I have this to say. Some people strive for titles in front or after their names. Others have skipped too many lunches to hold in their collections the finest (read:expensive) bags, watches, shoes and what-have-you’s money can buy. And others set their hearts on recognition and accolades in whichever field.

I say, to each his own.