It's important to be specific, at least about certain things. For that matter, it is important to know the difference between those things that demand specificity and those that don't.
For example, if your mate smiles beatifically and says, "What a lovely morning it is." and you reply, "Just exactly which aspects of this morning contain loveliness, in ranked order from least to greatest?", be aware that you are about to be struck with a frying pan or golf club or whatever solid object happens to be handy. So don't do that. Consider it an important safety tip.
Health and fitness goals, in contrast, are best spelled out in detail. It's not a law, but as a general rule most people do better at sticking to icky diets and sweaty exercises if they have pre-defined numeric objectives and a well defined plan for how to reach them and when.
Making a deal with the Devil works, but you have to be extremely careful, because Old Scratch is a tricky son of a puppy. You gotta cover every loophole because if you leave out just one little thing (like dying, for example) he will jump on that and it will bite you in the butt. You can't just say "I would like to make a deal for health improvement in 90 days, please." No! Sure as anything, 90 days after the blood dries on the contract you'll wake up with lots of muscles and washboard abs in a Federal penitentiary or working as an intern in Bill Clinton's office.
Unequivocal definition is critical. The Devil might well consider liberating your soul from your body to be "health improvement". And when you are flying down through the floor toward a light with a suspiciously reddish tint, it is way too late to complain about the way the terms were interpreted. Your attorney will join you soon enough, but that may provide slight consolation.
Some people, knowing that the Devil aways finds a way to take something away to spoil the benefits, will try to target the inevitable loss. "Oh Mr Lucifer, sir, I would truly love to have a physique like Olympic swimmer Micheal Phelps/Amanda Beard so I could impress the hotties down on the boulevard." Try that and you'll find yourself buff, but with no drivers license and your fancy Covette convertible destroyed in a mysterious fire. That's okay if you were planning to get rid of that car anyway and you can take the bus to work, but don't let The Dark One catch on that you played him or the next thing you smell burning might be you.
So I'm not doing that. As tempting as instant fitness via Satanic intervention might be in exchange for a few eons in purgatory, we all have limitations, and one of mine is that I can't play poker. People always know when I am bluffing, so there is no way I could be tricky enough to outwit The Trickster. For me, this is a "don't even go there" proposition. I really have no choice but to do it the old-fashioned way. As distasteful as it may sound, I will have to lose weight and get in shape using diet and exercise.
Welcome then, to Day One of my 2009 six-week fitness quest.
