My fiancée dragged me along to a pilates class this week. Pilates is the very worst name for it. I do not pilat, especially not with ease. Nor does it have anything to do with strip tease as I’d excitedly assumed when first invited.
I’d like to say that this is the first time I’ve been. I never normally do things like this. I’m there for moral support. But none of this would be true. Instead I’ve made the brave decision to try and get fit this new year.
I know, I know, this is a profound step that many of you may have dreamed of making such a vow in the new year, but I alone am courageous enough to actually give it a go. Fitness. In January. Madness.
So we turn up and set out our space. I claim some quality real estate. Right at the back left where no one can see me. Well, they CAN see me, I’m not building a fort or anything. It’s creepy enough being a guy in a pilates class without being the guy attempting to conceal himself in a pilates class.
The teacher arrives. Only it’s not the normal teacher. And this one has… accessories. Some kind of stretchy band thing, an inflatable ball thing and what can only be described as stirrups on a bungie cord (that’s not the only way to describe it. There are probably plenty of better, more accurate ways, but that’s what I’ve gone for. We can sit here and argue all day as to whether that was smart, or just misleading for comical effect, but I don’t think it’s a useful use of either of our time. And yes, I just said useful use. I probably could have done that better too. And yes it probably is less clumsy than the use of “of either of”. And now I’ve used “of “of either of””. WHY ARE YOU BEING LIKE THIS?!)
But fine, I walk over to get my utensils and as I’m walking back I spot that the teacher isn’t in the usual teacher territory at the front of the class where everyone’s facing. Oh no, she’s put herself and the left hand side, right by me.
I’ve gone from cool kid at the back of the class to teachers pet. We’re practically sharing a yoga mat!
OK, I’m going to share a secret with you. See I may have oversold my abilities at the beginning of this article. I’m perhaps not as great as I might have hoped. See in theory pilates is a piece of piss. It should be classified as sitting with intent. But it’s not. I’ve experienced it’s misery first hand. And I’m not good at it. My body is not a pretty sight, especially bent and unnatural angles.
After stretching, trembling and whimpering my way through the hour class I’m ready to leave. I’m not sure my legs can make the walk home, but I’m willing to give it a go.
“Oh, I can’t leave without doing this last exercise!” says the instructor excitedly.
“Can we?” I ask optimistically.
A single tear rolls down my cheek as I know the answer. I know…