Still Got It

I am happy to report that the six pack is still technically present.

Now, is it always available for public viewing? No. Like many historic sites, access depends on lighting, posture, hydration, and whether I recently ate like the buffet owed me money. But the structure is there. The foundation remains. Archaeologists would be encouraged.

This photo is less a fitness update than a subpoena for my waistband. It says: please confirm or deny that something athletic is still happening under these extremely normal shorts.

I confirm.

There is a funny little psychological tax to staying in shape as you get older. You never really arrive. You just keep renegotiating with entropy. One month you feel immortal, the next month your shoulder makes a noise because you slept too ambitiously. The body is not a statue. It is a subscription service with unclear billing.

Still, I like the proof-of-work aspect. Not because abs are morally important. They are not. But because they are evidence that a bunch of tiny boring choices kept adding up while life was busy doing its usual nonsense. Some crunches, some walks, some reasonable meals, some unreasonable meals that were later apologized for through movement.

So yes, the six pack lives. It may be under review, partially redacted, and subject to seasonal fluctuations, but it lives.

Please update the leaderboard accordingly.