If Fitness Class Descriptions Were Actually Honest, This Is What They'd Say

Thirty seconds in, and I started thinking that my patronus was the decaying body of a beached whale. I’m pretty sure every single other Lululemon-clad woman in class was a former ballet dancer who quit to become a bellybutton model. The instructor kept telling us to “Contort yourself into a position that is profoundly uncomfortable and inaccessible to most humans. Now, PULSE!” (I might be paraphrasing.) At one point we had to interact with a rubber ball in a capacity that, in certain cultures, would constitute marriage.