Noodle Arms

I've been going to Pilates lately. Well, I've been three times. But it's the beginning of a regular thing, so I feel confident saying it like that. I went to my third class today and: Jesus. When I saw on the schedule that it was Pilates Ball instead of regular Pilates I was kind of excited, because I thought Pilates Ball would be fun, y'know...like a party! A dance. A Ball! But no. Pilates Ball is where you use a giant, no, giant rubber ball and do pilates also. It involves squeezing the ball between your arms or legs, and balancing on the ball, and other activities which really highlight how goddamn uncoordinated I am, and make it impossible to hide behind other people because AM GRAPPLING WITH 3 FOOT RUBBER BALL. THAT IS NEON BLUE. There was this exercise where we had to hold the giant ball behind our backs and I COULDN'T DO IT. I don't have what could be called Short Arms. They're a fair length. Nobody's ever said anything, so...

I sound like an insecure guy talking about where his bathing suit covers.

ANYWAY - the arms. They're long-ish. And I spent 15 minutes fighting with the ball, only to suffer humiliating defeat when the instructor strode right by me (Oh thank god you're here. I'm failing here, failing miserably...oh, no...you're not walking towards me, you're walking right by me! Great) to berate Marion for picking a ball that's too small. The nerve...picking a ball that's too small. Girl has a 6 foot wingspan and she's picking small balls. Fuck her. She should have traded with me.

I keep searching for a place to throw in a That's What She Said, what with all the ball talk, but I got nothing so far. Tell me if I've missed something.

My arms are getting kind of fatigued now. Need icepack. But I will leave you with this...



That shit is fake. Nobody can do that.