Mr. Pilates

This story has two important background points.

1. Due to nostalgia of my folk dance days and a stunning realization that my pants are starting to get real tight, my desires to work out have skyrocketed recently.

2. My hair has been chopped from super regular long 'do that I could have cut myself...

to a fancy, short, asymmetrical cut that makes me feel cool and edgy.

Cool and edgy people pose with Benjamin Franklin's printing press.

Now that you have the background. We can get to the story.

I resolved on Wednesday morning to start going to fitness classes. This is new for me. I was always able to dance my way into shape and then I left college and that's no longer an option. Now I actually have to do work out things, with spandex and gym memberships and running. And I don't know how that world works. I have never understood people with gym memberships who go to Zumba and Pilates and who own workout clothes. But suddenly, due to the aforementioned shrinking of my pants, I decided it was time to enter that world.

I spent the day at my summer job looking for fitness classes that seemed fun, non-threatening, and inexpensive. I quickly became overwhelmed because there are 1800 fitness studios just in my little piece of Salt Lake. I thought to myself 'Well I tried. I'll just figure it out later, like when all my pants split open.'

But fate didn't want my pants to split open, because when I got home that night and mentioned to my roommate that I had been looking for fitness classes, she was literally getting ready to go to a Pilates class. So of course I was trapped. I couldn't say no to a Pilates class after I'd just mentioned my commitment to health. So off we went.

Now, I made some bold decisions when dressing for this Pilates class. But I didn't realize how bold they were until I was holding a plank position while facing the mirror. Let's just say there was more of me visible than I've ever intended to show in public.

My roommate and I arrived about 5 minutes late. #classy. But we weren't as late as Mr. Pilates. Shortly after we came in and found a place to lie our mats, in he came. This man looked to be about in his 40's, black tank top and short black shorts, very tan, curly dark grey hair pulled into a ponytail. Exactly the kind of man you'd expect to be in a Pilates class really (although sidenote, 75% of that class was male so apparently the men of Millcreek are very interested in Pilates, or in the adorable Pilates instructor).

From the moment this man came into the room, he'd locked on to me. Remember in junior high when you totally thought your crush was looking at you, but you actually secretly thought you were just crazy or paranoid (just me?). Well, I've since learned that if it feels like they're looking at you, it's likely true. And this man's gaze was locked. Like uncomfortably locked. So the Pilates class was a mixture of trying to work my core, trying to not look like an idiot (that's just a constant really), and trying to avoid what seems like the lecherous gaze of this man.

Many thoughts ran through my head. I'm way to young for you dude. Wait, am I too young for him? Wait, he is kind of attractive. I mean, what is age really? No! He's old! Stop looking at me, stop looking at me. Why did I wear this shirt, it's showing everything! He's looking down my shirt, he's looking down my shirt....Oh no if we face this way he'll just stare at my butt the whole time. But mostly I just repeated over and over, 'stop looking at me, stop looking at me, stop looking at me.'

Well it didn't work. Homeboy gazed in my direction most of class and I felt thoroughly uncomfortable. Class ends and I roll my mat up and manage to put it away without saying anything to him. I must be in the clear. I've made it. I won't get asked out by middle aged Mr. Pilates. But then he corners me, and do you want to know what he said!?

"Who cut your hair?"

Yeah. Yeah. He's a hair stylist and he had not been lecherously gazing at me the whole class he had been looking at my sweet haircut and wondering who did it. And in fact he had some great tips for how to make it an even better cut next time. And once I knew that's all he wanted to say, I realized I probably seemed like a jerk the whole time. He was just trying to get my attention so I would give him some hair stylist deets and I pointedly avoided his existence during the entire class even though we were right next to each other for like an hour.

Sorry Mr. Pilates Man. Sorry for thinking you're a creep. You actually seem pretty cool.

Will you cut my hair?