photo courtesy of Pilates Center of Long Island
i am going to this pilates class and there is a girl in it who looks perfect always and who does perfect pilates. i always try to sit extremely far away from her so i do not subscribe to petty jealousy which will distract me from my learning. and also so when she is effortlessly balanced in another physics-defying pose, i do not roll off my mat and into her. she also swills water out of one of those mineral water bottles the size of a septic tank. except much much CLEANER than a septic tank (naDUH). finally, she always exposes her stomach and just wears a sportsbra because it is the most perfect stomach in the universe. not jacked but perfectly tiny and flat widening out slightly to exquisite booty/hips. yes, i’m obsessive. CAH-learly.
i think she, on the other hand, loves sitting near me because she knows she will look quite splendid next to a shabby creature such as myself. however, she is probably properly aligned enough (mind body and soul…the pilates way) to know that such concerns are irrelevant to her attainment of complete zen and oneness with her being.
completely incidentally, i can often be seen rolling off my mat in pilates class (really quite incriminating). i also look flustered where she looks calm and breathe irregularly where she breathes perfectly in rhythm with her soul. she also always asks the instructor questions so she can become even better, the best amateur pilatest in the WORLD. i meanwhile huff and puff and do everything in my power not to accidentally take someone out with my collapsing legs. no one in that class has a sense of humor. if it doesn’t align your vertebral column, your behavior is out of line.
instead of feeling calm at the end of class, i am too busy angrily comparing myself with the pilates goddess. why do i care? i don’t know. i don’t want to care. i don’t want to be the pilates goddess. she just inspires me in all the base and low aspects of my character. go figure. i would turn new age into new rage.