Dingle! / Pilates!

Yes, both those titles deserve a goddamned exclamation point.  I’m an exclamatory person, OK?  You wanna fight about?!

Erica and I went to this trial Pilates class this morning, and we got to use the reformer machine, which was huge and complicated and definitely fun.  It was a lot of, like, OK, do this, do this, are you still doing the first thing, are you remembering to engage your abs at the same time, is the small of your back raised FOR THE LOVE OF GOD RAISE THE SMALL OF YOUR BACK also put your heels together, now put them apart.  Anyway, I was certainly using muscles I haven’t used before, and it’s a really interesting challenge, so I’d like to keep doing it.  I have to say, though, I think bootcamp has ruined me for a lot of other things in certain ways.  The Pilates instructor referred to an exercise as particularly “fatiguing” and I was thinking, like, “Lady, I am nowhere near crying.”  Apparently my only criteria for tiring now is tears.  Lovely!

Anyway, bootcamp at the Dingle was awesome.  We were running up the super-steep hill to the tower, then running up the stairs at the bottom of the tower in various ways.  Gerald was very nice to me!  To get me up the hill at one point, he yelled “Dig deep sweetie, and I’ll tell you a se~cret!”  The secret was, as it turns out, “You may try to hide it, but I can tell there’s less of you under that shirt.”  Aw!  So I got bootcamp props for badass fitness.  I still can’t run up a hill worth crap, of course, but it’s the effort that counts.

To kill a lazy afternoon, I went through my closet and pulled everything that’s too big for me now/just plain ugly.  Four garbage bags worth!  Man, I own way too much crap.

An old but funny story: my friend (the delightful Michelle) sent me a postcard from her European vacation; the postcard had a picture of the Rosetta Stone.  When I opened my mailbox and saw this little Rosetta Stone thing in amongst the flyers, I had this moment of absolute, blind panic.  “This is it,” I thought.  “The junk mail people have hit the perfect advertising algorithm.  They can see my soul.”  Then I turned it over and it was a postcard from Michelle.  Crisis averted!  (… for now)

Library House party soon!  Should I start drinking now?  Or is that just the rule for bars?  Bars and court.

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Filed under bootcamp, exercise, fucking inanity

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