Pilates

When I signed up for the Gladiator Pilates class I should have been more suspicious. From the teapot poised on a plank resting on cinder blocks in the middle of the classroom, to the velvet gloves issued to each participant; the question arose. Was this a union instructor or just a Visigoth scab. The dove on the teacher’s shirt was a dead give away. I asked for a refund immediately.