Seriously…this stuff will hurt you, bad

Yesterday, I made a trip to the local sporting goods store to find some “equipment” to help me get back into shape. To be more specific I was looking for the latest and greatest technology to help me “strengthen” my core. You know, rock hard abs, like Usher, Brad Pitt, or that guy from the “Rico Suave” video. What I found looked like a garage sale for tacky underused exercise equipment. So I rummaged through the merchandise, thinking to myself, “Self, you don’t need the Chuck Norris Ab Lounge or so other junkie piece of infomercial trash, you need something simple that will make you hurt!” And what did I end up purchasing? Yeah! you guessed it the Pilates: Abs Workout video.

Yes! I am secure in my manhood, no doubt about it. I have pink shirts, or shirts with pink in them, depending on how you look at it. I appreciate a good chick flick every now and then. I even own a Josh Groban album. And no I am not a “metro-”, a “homo-” or even a “Romo-” sexual, I am simply one who does not need to question his masculinity. I know who I am and am secure in that.

Anyway, the thing that I liked most about my new Pilates DVD was that there was only 25 minutes minutes standing between me and flatter abs. In no time, my core could be ripped up spawning a lucrative career as a sexy ab model. I mean Matthew McConaughey was seen doing Pilates on a beach and he was voted People Magazine’s Sexiest Man, it has got to work, right?

When I got home I quickly changed clothes, moved the furniture around in my living room, put in the DVD, hit play, and waited for the flattening to begin. When the video started, there were two women on my TV: one who the beginners were encouraged to follow and one for everyone else. So what did I do? You got it I quickly ignored the beginner chick and went for the gold. Assuming the Pilates position, which I had never been in before, was an interesting experience and then I began to move my extremities in ways that I did not know they could or were suppose to move. Yet I pressed on. I balanced on my hind parts, raised my arms and legs at a 45 degree angle, tightened my abs, and tried to stare at my navel. All of which I had minimal success accomplishing. I performed all sorts of movements that looked mostly likely rolling around on the floor. Since this was my madien experience with the Pilates I had no idea what I was doing, but I felt good trying and I quickly developed a new-found respect for those young women who do this stuff at the local YMCA. After following the head Pliates chick for about 6 minutes, I realized I was in over my head and gladly switched over to the beginner workout. This did not make things that much easier, but I pressed on. Sexy abs…here I come, only 19 minutes and counting!

When all was said and done, I was laying flat on the floor, with sweat trickling off my forehead, gasping for air. Yet my stomach didn’t hurt, thus I wasn’t very satisfied with my workout and began to wonder if I had wasted my money. But allow me to fast forward to this morning, when the alarm breaks the silence at 6:45 am and I reach over to hit the snooze button, but I can’t without pain. I notice that my core is a wad of throbbing cookie dough. It hurts to laugh. It hurts to bend. And at times it hurts to breathe. I have a new respect for Ana Caban and any other Pilates instructors who I may have previously made fun of, because this stuff is serious and it will hurt you. So if you know me, ina few weeks feel free to ask me how its coming along. Who knows? Maybe I will be a testament to the power of Pilates and have the abs to prove it.