Saturday, November 24, 2007

The Pilates Monster

Black Friday. It sounds so ominous until you find out it's a geeky accounting word.

I started off my Black Friday at the private gym where I go for my Pilates sessions. I'm not there for my health so much as for the free Pilates machine that I can sell and parlay into months of pharmaceuticals. The research study I'm in is a bit more rigorous than I planned. Bob is killing me. Well, maybe not. It's just that on the Home Shopping Network, the models make the whole thing look so effortless. Reality check: It is not effortless.

I've come to think of my sessions with Bob as a form of self-inflicted punishment. What the hell was I thinking? I was thinking about those leggy ballerinas gliding through their Pilates routines and going on and on about what a gentle exercise it is. Doh! I am not a ballerina!

The gym is deep in the basement of the Jazzercise building, in a dark corner away from all other human interaction. The floor is black. The ceiling is black. It is obviously a dungeon. Bob always asks what the weather is doing when I arrive. It is a windowless, disorienting place. The Pilates machine even has a name befitting its role in this drama: The Reformer. It looks like a frightening device from the 17th Century, all wood and metal with straps and bars. Eeeeeee!

Bob is determined to reform me. Today he decided it was time to tackle my posture and abs--disasters all around. He said we needed to get to my core. My core! I am a pear, but it hadn't occured to me there would be a core involved.

The Reformer loomed large. I endured. For one hour, I endured. Now I feel like I had an appendectomy just before embarking on my Black Friday shopping. How is this going to improve my posture if I'm permanently doubled over? Glaaaaa.

My very own Reformer is in the garage, still crated. Tomorrow we assemble it and set it up in the home dungeon. Basement. Gym. That place that's not my Happy Place.

Exercise=tedium + pain. And people actually thrive on this?


Spilling Ink said...

Yuck. I'm no ballerina, either. I am a long and inflexible clutz. And I don't like physical exhaustion and sore muscles. Poor May. You are really knocking yourself out for this! I'm not sure I'd have the energy. I hope Bob is at least appealing and nice instead of a pushy and unkind torture master. The 'dungeon' sounds dreadful.

Spilling Ink said...

Hi, May. Just wanted to let you know I'm hanging around today and reading. Hope all is well for you.

M said...

This is such a funny. I just had Pilates class yesterday and it hurt a little to laugh at your post (which is why I'm necro-commenting; I so identify).

It gets better, though, as things on the bod start to get put back in place. All of us are "no ballerina", I think. Are you still going to class?

May Voirrey said...

I had to stop Pilates a few months after I started because I came down with shingles and then nerve damage from the shingles. I couldn't lie on my back for over a year.

I just started with a private instructor again last month, but I'm back on hiatus since my car decided it needed the Pilates money more than my body did. Sigh.

I am sure that somewhere I wrote about how hard Pilates is if you have ADD (I do). Too many things for my brain to process simultaneously. I'll get back to it next month. Keep breathing and reminding your powerhouse that you love it so...