These are my toes. They are so far away, and the older I grow the more distant they become. Each morning is a reminder that the questionable flexibility I may have had in my youth is ever fleeting. Never has that been more obvious than in this last week. My kids started a camp which offers transportation–fun for children and parents alike! While we wait for the adorable Brian who drives Van #5 we play games on the lawn. Popular favorites include Toilet Tag and Dead Man, both of which are renditions of the traditional tag. Even inventive names cannot distract me from what is painfully true: I move with the agility, fluidity and swiftness of a tree stump.

A while back my sister-in-law encouraged me to purchase a Groupon deal for Reformer Pilates. Certainly the plan was to enjoy the torture together. However, her work and my kids seem to be in the way. Damn responsibility! So I had to go it alone last week when I tried my first class.

Sporting my beloved Nike spandex shorts, the actual pair that predates the existence of Lululemon, I skulked into class. I wanted to fly under the radar–unlike the bedazzled, Botoxed mom who looked years younger than her accompanying teenage daughter. She was there to be noticed–or rather her enhanced bosom with dangerously large nipples were there to be noticed. My only goal was to make it through the class without becoming permanently tangled in cords and springs.

With just slightly more grace than Tobias Funke I emerged relatively unscathed. I declare success! So much so that I will go back. After all, I do have to be able to reach my toes if only to keep them trimmed. My daughter–the same one who “washed” her hair without shampoo for two weeks because she failed to tell me she had run out, and also the one who constructed a challenge for herself to see how long she could wear a single pair of socks–informed me that my nails were nasty. She took it upon herself to clip them.

Now, I may not be able to school my kids in tag, but dammit I need to be able to keep my toenails in order! Somehow I’m pretty sure that’s not what drives Nipples McGee…