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As I walked down the long, deserted hallway of the red-carpeted Marriot at 2:30 AM, I wondered how I’d gotten us into this mess. My head was swimming and I felt confused as I thought back over the last 2 hours. Then I remembered. It had started two weeks ago...

My wife, Mary, was still a beautiful woman. At the age of 52, she was in better shape than the day we were married. This was due to long hours spent on the treadmill that I had bought her four years ago. She had dropped forty pounds and now had muscle where before had been “middle-age” fat. Her breasts, although a bit small, were still firm and “perky”, and her once too-full bottom was now sculpted into a beautiful sight to behold. I was proud that I had a wife with the self-respect and self-discipline to physically work herself back into shape with punishing exercise and a high-fiber, low-fat diet. Although her hair was almost white (it had started turning prematurely gray while in her twenties), her 5’8” frame and strikingly beautiful smile would now cause most men --- young or old --- to look twice.

I, on the other hand, had begun to let age overtake me in my forties. Now, at 52, I was woefully overweight and dreadfully out of shape. My body, once lean and mean, had expanded into something I hardly recognized in the mirror. I ate and smoked too much, and my job was extremely stressful. My pot-belly was acquired honestly --- too many burgers, fries, and pizza. At 5’11” and 200 pounds, I wasn’t exactly ready for Chippendale’s. ...

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