I went to Pilates for the second time today. I’m really enjoying it, and how light and stretchy I feel afterwards. I am also pleased to report that there are no intimidatingly skinny people in the class.
Last week I left class on a high. I grabbed a pumpkin spice latte, I went shopping. I felt great all day. And I hardly thought about him. This week, I have to admit, I felt good after class, but my mood plummeted. For some reason he is back in my thoughts almost constantly. It’s so damn tiring that not even a pumpkin spice latte could pick me up.
But something I’ve already learned from Pilates is that my body is capable of more than I know. Just when I think I’ve stretched as far as I can – inhale – and on the exhale and I can stretch even further – inhale – and on the exhale further still. I can do all kinds of things I didn’t think possible if I just keep breathing.
I’ve mused before over the fact that, through the greatest pain I’ve ever been through, I somehow kept breathing. After the pizza of doom I didn’t feel like I could get through the next hour, let alone make it to the end of the year. Now I find myself in mid-October, and somehow I’m still here. It hurts. Every day. But – inhale exhale – if I just keep breathing I will make it to the end of the year.
And 2014 is going to be fabulous. I won’t let it be anything but.
Pizza of Doom 
Where can you get a pumpkin spice latte from? I really want to try one!
Starbucks, baby! An autumnal treat x
Thank you for telling me! I haven’t been near Starbucks since he finished with me cos that was our thing. I need to go for pumpkin latte! I’ve always wanted to try one plus I call people pumpkin when I like them!
I had one yesterday but it didn’t taste any different so I might have to go back and try it again!
I’ve sat reading your posts from the beginning for about half an hour now, and I really hope you have started to think that you are his loss, rather than the other way round! He might have seemed like Mr Perfect, but clearly he has very bad emotional eye sight because he was unable to identify Mrs Perfect, thus making him imperfect.
Thank you. I hope I’ll get to feel that way one day. I like the term emotional eye sight!