My friend and I went to a Pilates class the other afternoon. After my dabble with yoga with the Italian mamma Elena, I decided the release was an addictive, enjoyable thing to do with forty-five minutes of my week. I slept better after, started to eat better and have generally become a nicer person.
When it comes to being an au-pair, it is important to make the children think they are always right, whilst in fact proving later they are wrong: this applies to timings, homework, brushing hair, brushing teeth, TV times etc. But to apply this kind of command, you need a calm collectiveness that I’ve discovered can be found and maintained by yoga (or Pilates, or by the time I’ve written this three more vaguely similar workout techniques will have appeared all over adverts).
“After my dabble with yoga with the Italian mamma Elena, I decided the release was an addictive, enjoyable thing to do with forty-five minutes of my week”
So my french friend Anne-Sophie and I got our Sweaty-Betty’s (sweatpants for women who don’t ‘sweat’ ever, but maintain a glowy, doe-like sheen before, during and after a work out). This is as much not me as I wish it was.
So, there ended up being four of us in the class. Only four, I was quite embarassed. No room for hiding or shirking any yoga responsibility. The class was made up of my friend, the instructor, another lady and myself. The instructor was French, but spoke fluent Italian. He was quite small, but very well built, with slightly crooked teeth. Anne-Sophie liked him immediately (don’t ask.)
The lights dimmed and a hush fell upon the room as a reedy, whispering sound came from the instructor’s iPod, which he took out what looked like a bag made of bamboo leaves. The music was entitled: The moon song of the winds that graze over the grasses of Mount Kilimanjaro, in the springtime, on horseback, serenely. I
The main focus of the class was to relax, wake up and tense your tiny, vital stomach muscles near the pelvic bone, (the ones you never use and may not know exist but are really, really important). The instructor helped show us where they were by pressing down on our stomach muscles, and I don’t remember thinking I’d signed anything for that yoga-related intimacy to be ok. I was very uncoordinated at first, then got more into it as the song merged from Grass Grazing to River Wallowing. The music was calming at least and I couldn’t even hear any noise from the street. There was a little window that poured sunlight into the studio, so that was nice and probably a bit of a prop too.
“Main focus…was to relax, wake up and tense your tiny, vital stomach muscles near the pelvic bone, (the ones you never use and may not know exist but are really, really important…)”
In the end Anne-Sophie got a date of it, (and probably a couple more free sessions if you know what I mean) and my teeny-tiny stomach muscles that had probably woken up with a jerk felt a little bit firmer than they ever had, so I left feeling like the cat who got the (non-fat, no dairy) cream.