Evil, you have met your match

After getting the shock of my life and realizing that I'm fat and ugly right now (at least to me I am), I made an emergency call to my pilates studio. I haven't taken a class since last June when my husband got sick and all hell broke loose. I figured maybe it would help me tighten up a little and then feel a little better about myself.

I booked my lesson on Friday with a girl I took lessons from last spring. She was a little hard core last year, but not too bad. In order to protect her privacy, I'll give her an alias. Let's call her Evil Personified, kay?

So we met at the studio, and instead of doing the typical pilates thing where they ask what your body has been doing and what level of fitness you're at, have you do some cleansing breathing, you know, all that safety stuff, Miss Evil threw me on the Reformer right away. When she said "send the carriage out" and I could barely get it pushed all the way out, she admitted to me, "yeah, I pumped up your springs a little."

Many of you may have no idea what I'm talking about right now. I will give you an analogy. It's a bit like a personal trainer meeting a client who hasn't stepped foot in the gym in 8 months and then loading up their benchpress bar with an extra 100 pounds.

Things with Miss Evil went downhill from there. Was she mad that I'd disappeared for eight months? Did she think I'd been cheating and taking classes at a different studio? I'll never know. What I do know is that she actually had me doing things like one-armed pushups when my form was so bad I had to tilt my body towards the ceiling just to keep from falling down. Did she correct my form? No.

I could barely walk yesterday. One of my boobs actually hurt. Boobs typically do not hurt after exercise. The muscles underneath them, yes, but this was the actual boob. My husband and I went out to dinner last night to celebrate his new job (yay!) and while walking to the restaurant I lost control of my leg muscles for a second. I didn't fall, don't worry.

Today, the legs are a little better. I can pick up my son again today, that's a plus. My left boob no longer hurts. I'm supposed to go back into the studio tomorrow for a chair class. My options are 1) Call the owner of the studio and threaten to sue them for hurting me and employing a dangerous teacher, or 2) Go to the chair class because my butt is in horrible shape and the chair really whips it into shape and I'm superficial enough to only care about my looks.

I've got a feeling I know which way this is going.

- H