Here is what I learnt today...
- Stability balls. Seriously? You really couldn't find a better name for that one? In a Fickle Fest, it can easily go bouncing off with first prize, it's nearest contender a hormonal, teen-aged boy's heart.
SOOOOO erroneously named. But then, to paraphrase the immortal words of the Bard, what is in a friggin' name? After all, would not the rack, by any other name, be just as body-alteringly hellish?
- In Torture World, seconds are actually longer. So when the instructor says "Hold that position for ten more seconds", she means twenty.
- Women on the floor, flat on their backs, legs in the air, moaning and groaning? Not always sexy. Even when the balls are between their legs. No. Really not sexy.
- I always knew I had a jelly-belly, jiggle-jaggle-jugs and thunder thighs. I did not know I had knock-about knees. Now I know.
- I must be the shortest woman alive.
- Even the hair on my head is groaning in protest today.
- Endorphins are over-rated. At least during the entire procedure.
I so recommend this to everyone! You might die by the end of it, but at least you'll die fabulously and not flabulously.
And now, there's a grave out there somewhere with my name on it. Heaven is hopefully a land where pain-killers grow on trees. And chocolate is fat-free and still delicious. And the angels all look like Johnny Depp, Hugh Jackman and Hritik Roshan. And...
Ouch! I just pulled a finger muscle typing that last sentence. Right now, I'll just settle for the pain-killer tree.