A friend has been singing the praises of pilates for over a year now. “Take a class! You’ll love it!” She encourages. But I have issues with coordination, and some serious baggage with aerobics classes that make me feel klutzy.
“Oh, it’s not like that at all,” my friend assures me. “It’s nothing like aerobics.”
She almost had me convinced. Almost. Looking over the schedule at the Y, I almost did it. But I am so glad I didn’t.
Instead, I checked out some pilates videos at the library. And, let me tell you, they require coordination and abdominal muscles I do not have. I realize that’s the point, but seriously folks. It’s bad.
I have reached new levels of humility with these videos while the noisy boys either flawlessly complete every move while shouting out, “Come on, Mom! It’s fun!” or critique me from the couch, “Don’t just lay there. Lift up those legs! You can do it! CAN you do it, Mom?” and questions I do not wish to answer like, “What’s a firm buttocks?” Oh, yeah. They do not need any more vocabulary to add to their repertoire of body-part humor.
I’m just glad I’m in the house with the curtains closed and not at the YMCA.