On Having Balls…well, Ball. Singular.

Last night, jrob and I went to Wal-Mart (I KNOW, but one of my glasses’ nosepads broke again and Wal-Mart is the only place you can get those at 10pm) and, in addition to the aforementioned nose pads, I got one of those giant yoga balls.

I mainly got it to sit on at my desk (some attempt at multitasking a work day AND an ab workout), but it has already exceeded workout and comedic expectations. I inflated it last night and looked through the little foldy thing of exercises that came with it. Dig if you will, the picture:

Pre-shower (evil), trying to simultaneously look at a foldy chart and balance on a firmly-inflated ball. Comedy insues, as I find that an inflatable ball has surprisingly little give under my weight. I almost rolled right into one of the pictures that is still leaned up against the wall in “hang picture here when you get to it” position.

I was lying on that thing for, like, a minute and my abs are sore today. This means 2 things: I love this ball, and I have so clearly not worked out in 3 months. I’m back on the wagon, though, as I realized Sunday that I have 2.5 weeks to get to the point where I can dance for 45 mnutes without passing out. The Ayria show waits for no (wo)man.

Side note: sitting on the ball doesn’t do much, but I have been squeezing between my legs today as though it is a thighmaster from hell. Beware, male population: I will soon be able to crush a human skull with my inner thighs!


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