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I would rather have a Pie and Lattes!

Right, so I have started Pilates again after a quick little holiday from exercise that ended up being two years and one baby later. And I thought I was doing rather well. True, I still have 7 stubborn kilograms to lose (those of you that pay attention will see that this number is steadily growing each week) and can fit into about a quarter of my wardrobe (i.e. the shoes) but I really didn't think TOO much about it, seeing as though I have a newborn, erm, three month old, okay FIVE month old baby.

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But then fate intervened, in the voice of my 7-year old talking to her friend in the back of the car.

Kayla: Did you know my mommy had a baby?

Friend: Yes, her tummy was sooooooo fat!

Kayla: But there was a baby in there! Now it's just fat, but there WAS a real actual baby in there before.

I signed up for private Pilates lessons the next day!

Thankfully, this new instructor is very strict when it comes to theory, and keeps pausing the lesson to tell me the REASON we contract our abs at all times, or the REASON we only do crunches on the exhale, which is all very boring but VERY convenient seeing as though I get to rest while she talks. I have also discovered that she will ramble on a little longer if I frown slightly and nod with serious concentration.

Sadly, she does not find it at all funny that I say "and hold for a count of 100" every time I have to lie down on my back for a new exercise. Or that I have requested to do the 100 sitty-uppy things in monthly instalments of 10. Or that I fell off the ball while trying to warm up, and then nearly wet myself laughing.

In related news, she has apparently started drinking after our sessions.

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