You know how last week I went to pilates with Michael and I LOVED it. Well, things change. The instructor we had the first time was awesome - he was laid back, he kept his distance and he worked us out hard. But yesterday, we met CRAZY NAZI INSTRUCTOR! First and foremost, she told Michael and I that she would separate us if we felt the need to speak during class (class hadn’t even begun at that point!) Then she decided to SING all of the counts and instructions. It was like PILATES: THE MUSICAL. Also, she was a little too “hands on” for me - often lifting our legs higher (and often sneaking a peak down Michael’s shorts). I don’t mind if you come over and quietly show me what I’m doing wrong or assist me with a position or whatever, but don’t shout HEY YOU, RED SOCKS, IN THE CORNER OF THE ROOM. I mean, come on. The only good thing about her was how HARD she worked us out. The first instructor was very chill, but he did what he needed to do (without calling anyone out). This lady wanted to sing and shout and get crazy…but she made sure we didn’t quit. And she pushed us hard to give it our all. So minus getting treated like a kindergartner, the musical performance and nazi drills, my “core” was quite thankful. And then I got drunk with Jessica.