Flabby Abs and the Balance Ball of Death

My PSA for today: People, if you love your stomach and don't want it to come to any harm, avoid the balance ball of death. Please.

I've got 6 months to get in shape for ski season. It may seem a ridiculously long time away, but I have to account for the cake, cookies, and cocktails to be consumed between now and then. And the on-again-off-again exercise habits I have.

Good for my budget, but bad for my pain tolerance, I discovered our cable system has yoga, tai chi and pilates On Demand. Now I can torture myself to good shape in the comfort of my own home. I can even pause to have a sip of wine.

I gave it a try this weekend. Hmm, seems simple enough. Balance your tush on this ball, do a couple of arm swoops and in less than 15 minutes, you have a workout with little sweat. (I hate sweat.) But 24 hours later, oh my! My flabby abs sent a memo to the rest of my body. It had some rather rude comments about the brain. Things I will not repeat. Children could be present.

I say again: Stay away. Stay away from the Balance Ball of Death.