The other week, I went with a friend to a Japanese bath house. If you’ve never been to one before, it looks a lot like a spa, with massage rooms and soft music and lavender scented everything. But the main space is the communal bath area.
My morning routine used to go a little something like this: I’d wake up, saunter over to the mirror and immediately lift up my shirt to begin my “morning ab check”. I’d look for signs of progress or regression in my quest to become the fit, healthy girl that I was posing to the outside world so well.