Good morning sunshines:
Well things are going pretty well. I did another Pilate’s session yesterday and I’m only kind of miserable today.
There were about six of us yesterday lying on the floor in one of the department’s classrooms -- this one unused at lunch. The lights were off and not sure if it’s to avoid seeing me in all my middle-aged glory or if it was to set an ironic relaxing tone. There were orange and purple mats arrange in a semi-circle around the grand inquisitor (actually she is a very nice lady who takes time out to teach us this stuff; I just like being a victim).
So anyway the dispenser of pain or pleasure in chief, tells us to to stand up. We each have a small nine inch schoolyard ball that is available at any grocery store for about $2. Mine’s pink because of my overt masculinity and the testosterone oozing from every pore; actually the were sold out of Dora the Explorer balls and I had to settle.
I am wandering.
This wonderful lady (I better say nice things in case she reads this) puts us through different exercise, but the long and the short of is you are supposed squeeze the ball, breath a certain way, and control your abdominal muscles as you go through each movement. If done with gusto, this stuff ain’t easy. And me if I am nothing else I am full of gusto.
When I squeeze that ball my goal is to pop it. My arms quiver, my belly aches, and I can am winded from the inhaling and exhaling.
I guess that’s it.