Pilates rule number 1: Leave the foot phobias at home.
I had my first pilates session last night and I walked away with one thing very clear in my head: I am so going to have to get over my foot fears. That girl loved grabbing hold of my feet! When I walked into the studio, she warned me that if I had any comfort zone issues to let her know because otherwise she’d be grabbing hold of me and correcting me any which way was needed. I shrugged and told her I was good. But then she grabbed my feet. Oh. My. Gawd. I nearly screamed. I don’t like people looking at my feet for one, but touching them is a whole other story. Gross! Gross! Gross! And on top of that, I’m, uhm, a
lot little on the ticklish side too! She told me to get over it. Tough love!
Aside from the feet trauma though, I loved it! I hit it off with my instructor right away, she’s funny and chatty and evil (refer back to the foot) and quirky and interesting and so super pilates smart – my kind of trainer. And the pilates itself, I loved that I could actually feel something. We did some stretches on the mat, and a calf stretch on some kind of padded stool thing that I had to line the backs of my ankles against and then lean forward – I have never felt that good of a stretch in my calves ever. Then she strapped me into the
torture device reformer, to which I was totally freaking out. And rightfully so. My feet were put into brown leather straps that extended from somewhere behind my head. Torture! And my head was stuck between two black pads on either side of me with another pad at the top, which reminded me of Jack Nicholson’s lobotomy experience in One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. Torture! And it was all hooked up to cables that I was sure had I moved the wrong way would tear me right in half, or worse, stretch me into Gumby! Torture!
Weirdest thing though. When my feet were unstrapped and I got off the reformer, my big ugly toes on both feet were white, like Casper the Friendly Ghost white. I’m not sure if it had something to do with the fact that my feet were super cold or that they were pointed straight up in the air for longer than I think they’ve ever been or both. But they were still attached when I got home, so I didn’t worry too much 😀
We (and by we, I mean she) decided that we’re going to work on strengthening my feet, ankles, hips, butt, shoulders, and of course, overall core. Turns out, my body is just plain gimped.
Pilates rule number 2: Learn how to write a cheque properly.
I don’t write cheques, I don’t even own cheques. But my studio doesn’t have a debit/visa machine, and so it was either give them a cheque or carry around large amounts of cash. I opted for the cheque (thank goodness Mario had some). All I had to do was input the studio’s name and the amount. Easy enough right. Oh so wrong. After I wrote down the dollar amount, I was looking for the spot where I put the little xs (I remember the little xs from the last cheque I wrote more than six years ago) but I couldn’t find it. Something’s not right here, I thought. Oh crap. I put the dollar amount in where the name should have gone. Dammit. And it was the only cheque I had! I crossed it all out, initialed it, and hoped for the best. Torture!
2 thoughts on “Loving the torture”
Leather straps, pads, cables… It sounds medieval! 🙂 Hope it gets you to where you need to be…
Glad you liked it….pilates is my passion of course. It has helped me tremendously. Too bad the workshop was a bit lame 🙁