My online BFF.
Once upon a time, I decided that I would start far too many of my posts with the phrase, "Once upon a time."
Also, once upon a time, I told you about that hippie prenatal Pilates lady who totally kicked my butt. You remember: I was pregnant, decided to exercise, and nearly died. The end.
What I didn't tell you is that I eventually fell in love with her and have started a very serious relationship.
No, no, I don't mean that kind of relationship. I'm still super married to Patrick and totally digging it. The pigtailed Pilates lady and I are now virtual BFF's. Well, we would be if she knew me at all...
Perhaps I should explain.
My first experience with this woman was during that killer jelly legs work out while pregnant. To just watch the DVD, you'd think, "How soothing and gentle and how not at all difficult this must be." And then you actually DO the DVD and you think, "Holy mother of biscuits, my legs have seized up!"
What I never told you (because you never asked--rude) was that I looked up the trainer and found she had another prenatal DVD, as well as other non-knocked-up workouts. Over time, I bought several of them and decided that I really liked her. Her cues were great, and she was upbeat enough to keep me engaged without being so bubbly that I was annoyed (a delicate balance that's tough to strike!).
Plus, she was (or is, rather) very pretty and clearly in great shape without being intimidating--and that's basically my greatest goal in life.
I kid.
...or do I?
Whether I'm that vain or not is not the point. I liked the DVDs I had quite well (yes, quite well! I'm British now), and hopped online to see if there were any others I may want. While searching, I found she had a website on which is offered a subscription to on-demand video streaming. The workouts are a barre/Pilates/yoga fusion.
Neat-o.
The short version is: I tried a 2 day trial, nearly died again, got hooked, and immediately signed up for a year's subscription. That was at the start of March. Since then, FOR THREE WHOLE MONTHS, GUYS, I've exercised a minimum of 4 days a week, often 5 days.
Funny thing about getting regular exercise. It starts to change your body a little. I mean, I can actually see the changes.
Like, "Hey, see this? That's an oblique. And this? Those are triceps. And this? This is just me kicking ass at planking. NBD, y'all. I'm amazing now. Deal with it."
...Okay, so I have to be in the right lighting, turn the right way, flex, then squint a little to see some of my new muscles, but they're there, hiding in plain sight--i.e. under a layer of fat that will never go away as long as I think a Zero bar is a good post-breakfast snack. And sure, there are some curious dimples that have begun appearing on my thighs in recent years that stubbornly refuse to go away. And my doughnut top is still hanging on for dear life.
BUT, (hidden) OBLIQUES.
So it's a win.
Also, finding a form of exercise that I find challenging but still look forward to actually doing (as much as I ever "look forward" to exercise, that is)? That's a flippin' miracle.
And to find a trainer who emphasizes "your best, not perfection"? Praise Jesus.
So I workout with my pigtailed Pilates lady every week now (although she rarely wears pigtails and mainly does barre). It's a special relationship. It's one where she talks to the camera and I pretend she's talking TO ME, telling me that I can do it! I can get that last rep! I'm doing great! Me, and the hundreds of other women working out with her. But I think she senses when I work out with her and likes me best.
Delusions of personal relationships and tight tushies to you and yours,
xo
P.S. Bets are now open on when I suddenly and completely quit working out and this becomes yet another post where I brag about a good habit that in 3 months time will be but a memory.
Also, once upon a time, I told you about that hippie prenatal Pilates lady who totally kicked my butt. You remember: I was pregnant, decided to exercise, and nearly died. The end.
What I didn't tell you is that I eventually fell in love with her and have started a very serious relationship.
No, no, I don't mean that kind of relationship. I'm still super married to Patrick and totally digging it. The pigtailed Pilates lady and I are now virtual BFF's. Well, we would be if she knew me at all...
Perhaps I should explain.
My first experience with this woman was during that killer jelly legs work out while pregnant. To just watch the DVD, you'd think, "How soothing and gentle and how not at all difficult this must be." And then you actually DO the DVD and you think, "Holy mother of biscuits, my legs have seized up!"
What I never told you (because you never asked--rude) was that I looked up the trainer and found she had another prenatal DVD, as well as other non-knocked-up workouts. Over time, I bought several of them and decided that I really liked her. Her cues were great, and she was upbeat enough to keep me engaged without being so bubbly that I was annoyed (a delicate balance that's tough to strike!).
Plus, she was (or is, rather) very pretty and clearly in great shape without being intimidating--and that's basically my greatest goal in life.
I kid.
...or do I?
Whether I'm that vain or not is not the point. I liked the DVDs I had quite well (yes, quite well! I'm British now), and hopped online to see if there were any others I may want. While searching, I found she had a website on which is offered a subscription to on-demand video streaming. The workouts are a barre/Pilates/yoga fusion.
Neat-o.
The short version is: I tried a 2 day trial, nearly died again, got hooked, and immediately signed up for a year's subscription. That was at the start of March. Since then, FOR THREE WHOLE MONTHS, GUYS, I've exercised a minimum of 4 days a week, often 5 days.
Funny thing about getting regular exercise. It starts to change your body a little. I mean, I can actually see the changes.
Like, "Hey, see this? That's an oblique. And this? Those are triceps. And this? This is just me kicking ass at planking. NBD, y'all. I'm amazing now. Deal with it."
...Okay, so I have to be in the right lighting, turn the right way, flex, then squint a little to see some of my new muscles, but they're there, hiding in plain sight--i.e. under a layer of fat that will never go away as long as I think a Zero bar is a good post-breakfast snack. And sure, there are some curious dimples that have begun appearing on my thighs in recent years that stubbornly refuse to go away. And my doughnut top is still hanging on for dear life.
BUT, (hidden) OBLIQUES.
So it's a win.
Also, finding a form of exercise that I find challenging but still look forward to actually doing (as much as I ever "look forward" to exercise, that is)? That's a flippin' miracle.
And to find a trainer who emphasizes "your best, not perfection"? Praise Jesus.
So I workout with my pigtailed Pilates lady every week now (although she rarely wears pigtails and mainly does barre). It's a special relationship. It's one where she talks to the camera and I pretend she's talking TO ME, telling me that I can do it! I can get that last rep! I'm doing great! Me, and the hundreds of other women working out with her. But I think she senses when I work out with her and likes me best.
Delusions of personal relationships and tight tushies to you and yours,
xo
P.S. Bets are now open on when I suddenly and completely quit working out and this becomes yet another post where I brag about a good habit that in 3 months time will be but a memory.
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