I Tried Pilates Reformer, and My Core Has Trust Issues Now

Before stepping into a Pilates studio, I was a seasoned Instagram viewer, scrolling past those flawless Reformer Pilates videos. Women glided through movements effortlessly -no sweat, no wobble, just perfectly synchronized stretches that looked more like a dance than a workout. Naturally, I started saving the videos, as one does, convinced this was the ultimate workout I needed to try. Convinced this was the missing piece in my workout routine, I decided it was time to see if Pilates could work its magic on me.

When I finally booked my first Pilates Reformer class, I felt like I was embarking on the life-changing fitness journey everyone raved about. Would this be the secret to toned muscles, better posture, and newfound confidence? One claim caught my attention: Pilates can elongate your spine and even help you appear taller. This was miraculous for a short girl like me, standing just shy of 5’2”. I imagined a world where I’d finally reach the top shelf without a step stool.

The Pilates studio was serene, with a calm ambiance that smelled faintly of lavender and sweat—a unique mix that promised hard work and relaxation all at once. I showed up ready to conquer the workout, wearing my best activewear and grip socks (a must-have for Reformer classes, as I learned during my deep dive into Pilates gear recommendations). I felt confident and prepared, convinced I’d leave the class feeling taller, leaner, and as graceful as those Instagram pros. Spoiler alert: it didn’t exactly go that way.

Walking in, there it was – the reformer machine in all its glory. Only it looked more complicated than I had imagined -part workout equipment, part medieval contraption, pulleys, springs, and a sliding carriage that looked more complex than my last IKEA build. Thankfully, the instructor could tell I was new and came over to help me set it up and explain the different resistances and levels. I have to say, Pilates instructors are some of the best and most patient I’ve come across. They may not know how to count, but they’re masters at making ‘just one more rep’ mysteriously turn into five.

I nodded along, trying to absorb all the information about springs and resistance levels, but let’s be honest—my brain was stuck on one thought: Survive now, process later—and whatever happens, stay on the machine. The instructor’s reassuring smile didn’t ease the pressure. It was like stepping onto a tightrope with someone casually saying, ‘Just put one foot in front of the other!’.

As I lay down on the sliding carriage, it hit me—this wouldn’t be the graceful, Instagram-worthy experience I’d envisioned. This was going to be a test of balance, core strength, and my ability to avoid accidentally launching myself off the machine.

The first few moves seemed harmless enough. “Let’s start with some gentle leg presses,” the instructor said, her tone so soothing it almost lulled me into a false sense of security. I pushed the carriage back and forth, feeling like I could actually manage this. Confidence boosted, I thought, Maybe I’m a natural.

Then came the bridge position. “Lift your hips, keep your core engaged, and press your feet into the footbar,” she instructed. Sounds simple, right? Wrong.

As I lifted into the bridge, my hamstrings decided to throw a surprise party—complete with cramps. I grimaced, trying to keep my cool, but internally, I was screaming, Is this the Pilates glow-up everyone’s raving about? Balancing on the carriage while trying not to let the springs pull me off-center felt more like survival training than exercise. The instructor, ever observant, came over with a gentle adjustment. “Relax your shoulders and focus on your breath,” she said. Meanwhile, I was focusing on not collapsing into a heap. Note to self: Hydrate before class unless you enjoy spontaneous hamstring rebellions.

As I settled back into the position (after what felt like a small eternity of leg cramps and self-doubt), I could almost hear my muscles laughing at me. Oh, you thought Pilates Reformer would be a breeze? But I kept pushing through, trying to remember the instructor’s soothing words, reminding myself that Pilates requires both grace and strength—two things I was still working on.

After what felt like 17 minutes (but was probably closer to 30 seconds), the class moved to side lunges while standing on the carriage. My legs felt like jelly, but I was determined not to fall off the apparatus. Pilates, after all, isn’t about perfection; it’s about progress.

At one point, I was using the straps for an arm workout, but I quickly realized I had more of a tangled mess than a smooth movement. It felt less like Pilates and more like I was trying to wrangle a rogue octopus. But, you know, elegance is overrated, right?
Then, the instructor casually asked me to put the straps on my feet. And I’m sitting there thinking, ‘Wait, I thought these were just for my arms?’ Well, as it turns out, my feet were now involved in this Pilates party, and let me just say, it was… a very compromising position. The less I say about it, the better. Just imagine a pretzel with an identity crisis. No further details are necessary.

Despite the cramping, wobbly legs, and overall struggle, the challenge was strangely satisfying. Pilates Reformer is designed to push your body in ways you don’t expect—and while I wasn’t gracefully gliding through the movements, I felt my strength growing with every move.

By the time the cool-down came, I was sweaty, sore, and already mentally booking my next class. I had survived my first Pilates Reformer class. I may not have mastered it like the Instagram pros, but I had made it through—and that felt like a small victory.

As if Instagram knew I had just survived my first Pilates class, this hilarious reel popped up on my feed. And honestly… where is the lie?

So, have you braved the Pilates Reformer? Or are you still on the fence, watching those flawless Instagram reels like I once did? Let me know your thoughts, or better yet, your funniest Pilates moments—I’m definitely not the only one who’s struggled with those straps, right?