I am early for my Pilates class, but I have the company of another student who is full of information.
“It’s so great to see a man in Pilates,” she says. “You know a lot of males don’t grasp the importance of a strong core.”
Without prompting, she explains what a core is, why it’s important, and how men are too obsessed with their arms.
I start to make a self-deprecating joke about how my obsessions have nothing to do with exercise, but the lecture continues.
Do I know how the reformer works?
Am I aware that when men do join the class, they tend to “bitch and moan” about how hard it is?
Have I got the breathing down? “It’s vital that you breath.”
Suddenly, the lecture stops. She looks at my feet.
“Shit! I’ve never been here before. This studio requires socks?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Well, I guess you’re the expert.”
Not really. I just read the sign.