Pilates Whooped My Ass

Let me reiterate: Pilates. Kicked. My. Ass.
For one solid hour.

I have decided to go nuts and take all these crazy classes at the Y because I have recently lost the ability to kick my own ass, so I need to hire someone to do it for me. (read: make the most of my *free* membership)

I used to take Pilates with Ems and Brian but gave it up because I sort of hate it. And I sort of hated the woman with crimped hair who taught the class and has negative percent body fat. And I definitely hated the fact that they scheduled the class at Six A.M. But my recent ass-expansion (aka "shoddy craftsmanship") has made it necessary for me to rejoin the Pilates ranks.

Last night from 7.30-8.30 I let a really mean woman force me to do all sorts of horrible things with my legs in the air clutching a ball between my knees while trying to keep my ribcage on the floor and BREATHE for Christ's Sake. Just to clarify: having your body bent at a 45 degree angle while holding a ball between your legs SUCKS. It especially sucks when you are me and are shaking and crying and praying for death. And it sucks EVEN MORE THAN THAT when the person making you do it is a horrible liar and says UNABASHEDLY, "Ok, one more aaaaaand... I LIED!!! 8 more!!"