My Doctor and the Core Ball

My son, the Photoshop prince, made this photo of me, if I indulged in stacks of doughnuts, mega-cheeseburgers and Pepsi. I appreciate the cleavage, but the core is definitely in bad shape.

 I’m typing this sitting on a core ball. You know what a core ball is? It’s a big ball, kind of like the ones we used for crab soccer in elementary gym class, except mine is in stylish bullet gray/black.

Who am I kidding? Of course you know what a core ball is. I was probably the last person on earth to learn what a core ball is.

I’m sitting on a big ball because of my annual physical last week. My doctor, Christine, and I were talking about my weight, my exercise habits or lack thereof.

“Do you spend a lot of time at your desk?” she asked me.

I answered yes quickly, before she thought to ask me what I’m doing at the desk so long. The amount of time I spend on Facebook could make Internet porn look like time better spent. I didn’t want to get into details. The last time I was forced to get specific, I ended up giving her the address to this blog, blowing the lid off of all my secrets.

“You should sit on a core ball,” she said. I looked at her blankly.

“You know, one of those big exercise balls?” she said. “Get a big one and sit on it instead of a chair and you’ll be forced to sit up straight and tighten your core.”

I didn’t know my core was in need of tightening. I just thought I was fat.

So I went to Walmart and got the biggest, baddest, blackest core ball in the fitness department for $19.95. (You have to hand-pump it up full of air and the result of that is that I now have biceps. So I’ve got that going now.)

You don’t realize how bad your posture is or how relaxed your core is until you have to sit on a ball every day. You automatically sit up straight and tuck in your stomach - it’s amazing. I’ve even tried to slouch and it doesn’t work. Who knew sitting on a ball could do so much.

As I write this, my husband hasn’t seen it yet. This is what it looks like in our otherwise-stately study:



Not exactly the Ethan Allen Federalist line. Let me point out that it matches the decor a lot better than the Susan Komen pink ball that I could have bought. Sit on that, why don’tcha.

Here’s what I used to sit on while at my desk:




Pier One, a little wicker, wrought iron, wood, and a snappy cushion. Good looking, but nobody’s core was getting tight with that thing. It’s now relegated to the corner with the electric guitar that no one plays.

If we have company or otherwise want to impress someone, I can stuff the ball under the desk and pull the chair back into place. What ball? What? No one here needs to sit on a core ball.

As soon as my core is tight enough, I’ll be deflating the ball and going back to my old chair. But until then, while I update my Facebook page, send emails and do online banking, I'm rolling around in little circles and bouncing. Is it possible to have a core that is too tight?

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