Pilates.  On machine thingies called reformers and cadillacs.  I sought out this torture.  I asked for it.  Fuck, I'm paying for it in more ways than one.  I must be out of my fucking squishy mind.  But I'll thank myself for it once I can walk upright again right?  RIGHT?!?

My sacrum feels something akin (I would imagine) to the aftermath of being tied to a tree and humped by a pack rabid gorillas that haven't seen a female in 12 hours.  Not muscle pain.  On the top, next to the skin, please don't breathe on me and God help you if you touch me pain.

Its not a pilates studio, its a torture chamber.  And I walk into it of my own free will twice a week.  There's no hope for me.