A new Pilates studio just opened up the street from my house. It’s right next door to the bakery, and don’t think for a moment that I don’t appreciate the irony of that. The DemiGoddesses suggested that we go up there, buy some doughnuts, and then stand outside the Pilates studio and eat them while we watch people work out through the window. Clearly, I have raised them well.
When my neighbor, Leah, invited me to attend a Pilates class at the new studio with her, I thought, I find Pilates utterly humiliating at home in my living room, when I’m completely alone. With an audience? Oh, ho, ho… I think NOT.
But she reassured me that it’s no problem! They have equipment there that makes the exercises seem so easy! It’s amazing! It doesn’t seem like a workout at ALL! And then she promised to e-mail me the link to the studio’s website, so I could see for myself.
So this morning, I checked out the link, where I found this:
And as you can see, she’s totally right. It doesn’t seem like a workout because it's not a workout... It's the Spanish freaking Inquisition.