The weighted-vest frenzy has been building for a few years, and at first, I wasn’t sure what I was seeing. Why were all the middle-aged ladies, not to mention the bros, styling their Lululemon with an overlay of black tactical gear?

I figured it was merely yet another fashion trend that had left me behind. But soon my social media feeds, and my real life, started filling up with pack mules, and I heard that the fancy Equinox club introduced a weighted-vest class, and I finally realized why everyone suddenly had perfect posture and expanded lung capacity.

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If tooth-whitening mania has taught us anything, it’s that if others around you are moving forward, beauty-wise, and you do nothing, you’re going backwards. But change is possible, and a couple of months ago, I decided it was time for a Hot Vest Summer.

I called my longtime exercise partner to see if she was in. Actually, it’s more accurate to say she’s my longtime friend with whom I’ve been mutually engaged in a fruitless, decades-long search for the one exercise that will transform us.

But as the years pass, and the injuries and physical therapy sessions mount, our goal becomes ever more elusive. In credit card terms, we’re people who have fallen so behind on interest payments we can never catch up.

“But doesn’t your backpack already weigh a ton?” she asked.

She was right. As a bunion and plantar fasciitis survivor, I carry every shoe/sneaker/sandal I might need with me at all times, and also groceries, plus a bottom layer of detritus.

But: none of this matters, because heavy backpacks aren’t trending now. Weighted vests are. Euphoric over our shot at fitness, my friend identified a vest. “But it’s $250,” she said.

That’s a hefty price for schlepping. And that wasn’t even an outlier. If you want to be a beast of burden — and carry an extra 60 pounds — it’s going to cost you. There are cheaper ones, of course. One friend is being weighed down by a $30, 12-pound vest (that’s not nothing, of course, but also doable for free over the course of an indulgent vacation).

I had just finished a reading about how weighted vests had become the darling of the “menopause set, when Google, the spoilsport, intruded on my reverie.

“The hidden dangers of wearing a weighted vest,” a headline warned. The added weight, I learned, could lead to spinal disc compression, joint stress, knee issues.

What??? Pitched into despair, I read on, about chronic back pain and shoulder injuries — and OMG, I told my friend, maybe we should go back to pickleball.

A collection of pickleballs at the Cape Ann YMCA in Gloucester.Craig F. Walker/Globe Staff

True, we’d never once played together, but we spoke regularly about pickleball’s vaunted benefits, and were poised to buy outfits when, alas, reports of serious and numerous injuries scared us off.

But you know what they say. When god closes the chain-link fence door of the pickleball court, she opens a window in a Pilates studio. And so it was recently that we found ourselves positioned on reformers, doing our spine twists and shoulder bridges.

All this time, we’d never been able to develop an exercise routine that went beyond strolling, and now, here we were! Pilates people.

Later, back home, I was boasting about my core to my dog when my phone rang. It was my friend. It felt like the beginning of a horror flick.

Two women exercising on Pilates reformers.iStock

“Have you looked at the [studio’s] website?” she asked ominously.

We’d been lusting over Pilates for years, our desire increasing with every “celebrities who swear by Pilates” story. We’d held off only because of the expense. Classes can cost $40 or more per session.

But could it be that even if we were willing to spend our disposable income to lie on a machine and pull ropes, it wasn’t enough?

I navigated to the FAQ section. And there I saw it: “Can Pilates alone provide a comprehensive fitness routine?” the question read

I held my breath and, through terrified, squinted eyes, read the answer: “No.”

There was more to it than that. Whole paragraphs on the limited strength-building and cardiovascular benefits of Pilates, but I’d seen enough.

I put on a light shirt and called my friend. “Want to take a walk?”

Beth Teitell can be reached at beth.teitell@globe.com. Follow her @bethteitell.