Personal fulfillment shouldn't require a price tag.

Byline: Ana Veciana-Suarez

Here we are once again at that time of year when, to appear responsible, we list what we need to improve or what we would like to learn once and for all. If you're fairly typical, no one needs to remind you what part of your complicated life (or sagging body) must change.

Yet, I'm stumped. Not because I entertain any illusion of perfection but because the older I get, the more I realize that the persona I imagined for myself 20 years ago remains as elusive as the millions I had expected to earn right out of college.

Just for starters: I have not read half of the Modern Library's 100 fiction masterpieces of the 20th century. I haven't lost a single pound; though, truth be told, I didn't gain any either. I am not eating more leafy green vegetables and fish. Nor am I more patient with my children. I don't always tell my husband what a great guy he is, either.

As you can see, there's room for improvement. However, I really didn't know how much room until I wandered over to the self-help section of the bookstore. Been there lately? There are shelves upon shelves upon more shelves of books promising to make you better.

Double-digit growth through 2003 for the self-improvement industry has been predicted. Improving one's lot in life has become big business _ a $563 million-a-year publishing business, in fact. But it's not just books that lure us with their prescription for perfection. Our insecurities _ and our hope _ also ring at cash registers for seminars, CDs and personal coaches, to the tune of more than $2.4 billion a year.

That's a lot of money to maximize one's potential. A lot of bread to teach us how to eat better, exercise more efficiently, floss more often, climb the corporate ladder more quickly and love each other more selflessly.