Of all the clothes I lust after, the ones that actually prove the most useful in my day-to-day life are the workout clothes.
Sure, I can drool for hours over designer denim and argue both sides of the debate on the finer points of round-toe versus pointy-toe heels, but unless I’m going out to deal with real human beings, I tend to stick to the Dri-Fit/lycra comfort level.
(By “real human beings,” too, I include the teens and grade-schoolers I teach. I do not include the grocery store, drugstore, and bank employees with whom I occasionally have reason to interact. Age is not a factor in my estimation of human life, you can see.)
Some women’s magazines, the kind that deal in mind/body/soul betterment, recommend rewarding yourself for achievements with a nice new workout outfit.
I’m sure I could come up with a whole lot of achievements, boy, to get those killer cross-training shoes.
So really, the only way I could justify buying all the workout gear I really want is to become a personal trainer or group exercise instructor.
Which is really kind of a laughable concept, except for those rare moments when I think it's not. Given that I’ve never taken any class in (a) anatomy, (b) physiology, or (c) nutrition, I do believe those moments are called “self-delusion.”
If you think about it, one-on-one tutoring test preparation and one-on-one personal training are very much the same thing. Sure, one works the brain, and the other works the body, but both are important.
I'm sure I'd be a millionaire by thirty if I could find a way to combine the two into an innovative service available only to the most elite prep school families in Manhattan. I can see it now: "Get into the best school and the best body in six weeks!" “Perfect score, perfect abs NOW!”
Sometimes I scare even myself.