My mother and I started doing Pilates together a few years ago. While I was off gaining North America weight, my mum got really good at it. Now she’s like Catwoman and I can barely touch my toes. Now that I’m home, we decided to start going to classes together again and last week was our first one.
Our teacher is a lovely, softly spoken girl named Abby. She gently guided us through the exercises. Whenever I do Pilates, I’m surprised that breathing, which I don’t tend to have trouble with on a day-to-day basis, suddenly becomes so hard. There’s a whole technique involved and it’s guaranteed that at some points in the class I’ve forgotten to breathe altogether.
Abby explains the exercises really well and uses a variety of colourful metaphors to help you understand. Here’s some of the best:
– Imagine you have a pint glass full of water on each leg
– Imagine you’re balancing a glass of champagne on your belly button
– Imagine your hips are car headlights
– Imagine there’s a wall behind you
– Imagine your head is a cannonball
– Imagine you’re trying to stop going to the toilet
– Imagine there’s a head of a nail against your belly
– Imagine you’re spilling water into your belly button.
I was just hoping my cannonball didn’t crash through the wall and my car headlights didn’t go off, causing me to spill all that champagne into my belly.
By the end of it, I was a knot of random, lifeless limbs in the corner of the room. But you know what they say, practice makes perfect and all that. Hopefully this week’s class I’ll remember to breathe and the exercises will seem a little easier – but if nothing else, I’m bound to learn some good metaphors.