I hate fit balls

Fit balls.
The new bane of my existence.
We use them a lot in training – and they are quite good for ensuring proper technique when doing twenty bazillion abdominal crunches (yes, we’re down there for a while.)
Anyway, today Adam made us do something new. Which seemed to basically involve me falling off one a lot.
Justine had a go first. Perfect core hold. Abs of iron.
Then me. Good start. Then rolling, rolling, laughing, rolling, out of control fit ball, arse in air, knees hit concrete with a resounding ‘crack’. Ouch. Tittering ensues from peanut gallery.
Ok. Try again. Huumphhff. Same result. Further LOUD LAUGHING and protracted discussion of merits of ‘Funniest Home Videos’. Grrrr.
Third time lucky. Makes me a liar. Find self on ground yet again. Decided lack of assistance forthcoming from assembled onlookers who are conversely taking way too much interest in my lack of grace.
Inwardly cursing stupid fit ball. One last go. Perfect execution. Excellent form. Wait, wait. Adam is distracted with tales of what he’s doing on the weekend. Why is he not watching? Clearly he has no faith in my ability to master the fit ball and has lost interest.
“Good try, Marita” he says encouragingly. “We’ll have another go next time.”
“But. But. I did it,” say I.
“Yes, we ALL saw you.”
“But…” Sigh. “Ok.”