Pilates & The Potty Mouth

In an effort to reshape my body to look exactly like Jennifer Aniston’s, I’ve taken up Pilates. (Yes, I know…how very Gwyneth of me.) For those of you who aren’t familiar with Pilates, it’s basically like yoga…except instead of seeing tight-clothed women doing poses on the floor, you see them being stretched and contorted while attached to machines resembling medievil torture devices. That, in a nutshell, is Pilates.

So I was in class last week, trying to follow my instructor’s orders of “focusing on my core, breathing smoothly, and maintaining a neutral spine.” This while attempting to uphold some sense of dignity as I winced through one uncomfortable position to the next. Let’s just say it was not going well.

“If sixty-five year old Patrick Swayze can do this, then so can I, goddamnit!” I was thinking to myself when we started the final series of advanced poses. I looked over and saw the three other women in my class moving effortlessly, their limbs gracefully extended. I, on the other hand, looked like a bull in a china shop: beads of sweat running down my temples, face red with exersion. And then it happened – a snap, crackle and finally a pop in my lower back.

“Motherf*cker!”

And then there was silence. Heads turned. Mouths gaped. Had I just yelled a vulgar obscenity in a place where you have to take your shoes off at the door to respect the space’s zen-like quality?? Shit, I had.

And so goes my Pilates adventures and my quest to have Jennifer Aniston’s taut triceps. I have a feeling I might be banished to the Pilates timeout corner tonight for not using my words.

What To Do if You Have Blue Balls in the Office

I once had a coworker who used an exercise ball as an office chair. When asked why he prefered sitting on a large, rotund ball rather than on an ergonomically correct piece of furniture, he’d answer, “I’m working on my core.”

And it’s not like he’d just sit on it. There were times when I’d go into his office to prepare for a client call and he’d be bouncing and girating on his ball. It made me feel funny on the inside. This was particularly true in the instances when I could clearly see him, but not the ball behind his desk.

Why am I telling you this? Because some of you may be suffering through the same type of situation I’m describing above. And if that’s the case, please follow the necessary next steps:

And now my personal plea to all of you exercise fiends out there who are thinking about getting in some extra ab work while at the office. Please remember the following:

Blue Balls + An Office Environment = An Unpleasant Situation for Everyone