Pilates & Personas

Most Sunday mornings around 9:15 you can find me slurping my mocha java warm up for Pilates class. I love Pilates class. We're mostly moms, mostly middle aged, mostly in need of ab tightening, gluteous maximus tightening and most mostly--60 minutes of uninterrupted ME time! I love Pilates most when our intrepid and infinitely kind instructors sans any hint of subcutaneous fat or cellulite, asks what's bothering anyone today? And, girlfriends, they actually listen, unlike those Y-challenged chromosomes I live with. Ultimately, I love Pilates the very most, when it's over! When all those tight, tired, tweaked, and previously toneless 'core muscles' are smoking hot and ready to take on the rest of the day. If the homework gods are feeling kind, I go home, put my walking shoes on, and head off for a 6 mile jaunt around town and up the bike path (with a stop at Starbucks for a venti to fuel that 7th mile). Alas, sometimes those gods have me dead in their sites and my aerobic output is eclipsed by history day and preterit tenses and my only calories burned come by walking up and down the aisles of the supermarket late Sunday night.

Surely this is my fault, I think as I ponder the price of lima beans and dissect how I lost control of my 'Sunday time' for catching up on that presentation I'm giving Tuesday, or the search engine I need to finish for work, or the rocking chair awaiting refinishing, the floor I need to install, or the novel I've been plotting, the list goes on. I'm just now thinking it's a sort of traffic flow issue in my persona management system--that's the culprit! My Mom persona always seems to trump the rest of them: athlete, professional, cook, artist, fashionista and blonde bombshell. We girls schlep a multitude of roles through our days and weeks. Does anyone notice the juggle struggle besides us? Food for thought; this is one recipe we won't find so easily in Blondie's Recipe Box search engine.