
In any case, I think that we have to keep going to classes at this place just for the social life. Of the 10 girls in the class, 5 of them are American (or halvsies like Ella) and two of the other girls are daughters of my girlfriends. I even realized on my way home that I had actually already met one of the American moms at a party a few years ago and although we talked for ages, we never got in touch after. I suppose its only natural that I would bump into her again, as I've learned that the expat community here in Paris is teeny tiny. Still, that was a nice surprise.
She was chatting to me after class and let me in on a little secret. This place where the classes are held is known to be very disorganized, so I had better be prepared. It wasn't really news to me. I had tried out a Pilates class this morning and seen the chaos for myself. It took me 45 minutes to pay for my class and find out what to bring along for ella in the afternoon. Its so disappointing. There are almost no classes during the day when I'm free but this beginners Pilates had just started up and the price wasn't outrageous so I quickly signed up, thinking I had hit the jackpot. No luck. The teacher is a mess. I guess she must know something though. I'd say that she is nearly 45 but her body looks like its around 25. Right now, I would just settle for a body that looks its actual age. The scale is telling me that it was rough summer.
No comments:
Post a Comment