The next time I head to my pilates class, please remind me to wear a ski mask and carry a baseball bat.
Oh, who am I kidding. That would be too obvious. I need to be sneakier than that. After all, my pilates instructor has no qualms about being sneaky.
"We're going to do the ABC's today!" she jubilantly exclaims. So naturally, that makes me think, Hey, when my son does his ABCs in kindergarten, his teacher makes it fun. Maybe it will be fun here, too!
I should have known better.
Doing the "ABCs" in a strength pilates class means you have to lie on an exercise ball, and "write" the letters with your body while balancing on said ball. Easy, right? Uh, not really.
And of course my neurotic instructor thinks repeating the S and Z multiple times makes it even more fun. Again, not really.
I'd like to know what these instructors inject prior to bounding into their classes. No one should be that perky during an exercise class. No one should be that perky...ever.
Anyway, back to my alphabet anguish. When she finally decided we'd done enough Zs (and I was ready for a different type of zzzzzzzzz), she said we needed to grab a buddy. Oh, buddies! Another attempt at trying to make this whole experience sound fun...when it was really just a masquerade for bodily torture.
Ahhh. Nothing bonds two strangers quite like dripping sweat on each other as you attempt to flatten your abs. We're both slippin' and slidin' on our Bosu balls while Instructor Perky continues to count..."three...four...five, switch directions now, one...two..." Apparently she was a kindergarten teacher in another life because she counts as slow as one! Arrgh!!
"Isn't this fun?" she asks, with a huge grin on her face. "Couldn't you just do it all day? It's so great!"
Fun?! Does she know the definition? I can think of a hundred words to describe this experience, but trust me, fun is not one of them. I want to punch her.
After afflicting more pain upon us in various forms, it was - at long last - time to cool down. At one point, she says, "Okay, I'm giving you one minute. This is your time. If you want to meditate, or pray, or just relax, do that now."
How about reaching into my gym bag for that baseball bat...
Yeah, you're right. I wouldn't be able to lift the thing at this point anyway. And actually swinging it after those upper arm drills she put us through...yeah, not happening. I will be rendered incapable of lifting my child out of his crib tomorrow morning as it is.
But, knowing me, I'm sure I'll schlepp myself back in there next week to prove I am a glutton for punishment. Or because my abs actually looked pretty good after that workout.
At least until I polished off that last row of Oreos. Oops.
But that's fun.