As I settled into my first squat, I said, out loud, to no one in particular, "I hope the band doesn't break!"
"Huuugh!" I was suddenly flat on my back with the band in one hand and a loose handle in the other. The handle had become separated from the band.
I heard chuckling in the other room. My man was laughing at the timing of my unlucky prophesy. I'm sure the image of a big-bellied chick sprawled on the floor may have also contributed to the evil giggling.