The dangers of self-improvement.

If, 75 days ago, you had offered me the body that I now have, I would have bitten your hand off.

I'm in the best shape I've ever been in.  I don't feel self-concious when in public in the slightest.  I feel confident and I feel the joy that that confidence brings.

The trouble is, it's not enough now.  When I look at my aspirational figure (we were asked to choose a few months ago) I see that I'm not far away from this at all.  Well, apart from the pecs.

Yes ladies, it's Eric Bana.  Who else.

The trouble is that now I want more.  I see how far I've come from the day one photo, compared with now, and it's a massive change. But it doesn't feel like a massive change.  It doesn't feel like it's enough yet.

Of course it is possible to take things too far - after 8MA the other night I stumbled across the documentary about the body builder who's "arms exploded."  Clearly this guys was suffering from pretty serious body dis-morphia as he looked like a complete tool right up to the point where said biceps detonation occurred.

There's a nice balance there somewhere, waiting to be achieved, and I'll let you know when I get there.