I was all set to give you a rip-roaring horror story about my morning "Hot Yoga" experience... but I have to admit, I kind of loved it.
I know! How weird is that? I mean, I hate anything to do with working out and what is worse is that I hate anything to do with sweating and being hot. I make it a personal rule to never sweat-even when I did work out (as in running, aerobics, and yes... spinning hell class) I did not sweat that much-I always thought of myself as a "glistener"... I "glistened" during those work out regiments and I was fine with that because I did not want to be one of those people who sweat so much that there are drips coming off of their noses and down their arms and pooling in the crotch of their underpants. No-I did not want to sweat so the simple fact that my body did not sweat so much was fine with me. I chucked it up to good genes... or the fact that I probably walk around dehydrated, but that was okay with me-I would rather be dehydrated than look like a wet rag.
But today, I sweat like a pig. Yep. I even had it dripping off of the end of my nose... and guess what? I loved it.
I know! How weird!
You see, "Hot Yoga" is a class where you do some yoga stances in a 105 degree room-and the more people in the class, the hotter the room will get. I think it was about 115 degrees when we were done, which is what I am sure the surface of the sun is set at.
My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest and I couldn't figure out why because we were basically stretching for 90 minutes... yes, 90 minutes of stretching things that I didn't know needed to be stretched in a room as hot as Satan's bedroom.
Did I mention that I was half naked? Yeah-I knew it was going to be hot and my friend had told me to wear as little clothing as possible-so I donned a tank top and itty bitty shorts and stretched myself bending and posing and pulling and leaning. The last time I did so many positions with so little clothing was in January when The Ward was home... and the last time I was in a room full of other half naked people was-uhm, never mind.
I think this may be something that I actually DO... not just say I am going to do and then give up after a while because I can't handle the running and the grapevine moves and the weight lifting and the instructor that tells you you only have 12 more reps of something and then tricks you and makes you do another 12.
I liked the instructor-and she didn't make us bow or pray or say any foreign words. It was all very chill-well, other than the fact that it is hard to chill when you are sitting in hell's waiting room-but you know what I mean.
So it is official... I may just be a granola. First I cut out meat and become a vegetarian... now I am taking up yoga.... next thing you know I'll stop shaving my arm pits and move into a tree.
Pfft... stop shaving my arm pits? No... I am obsessed with shaving my arm pits-and if you know me at all you know that I have OCD with certain things like mascara application and deodorant strokes-so I think I would go crazy if I stopped shaving the pits. Not as crazy as I am right now knowing that I enjoyed sweating like a construction worker this morning-but still crazy.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go look up the meaning of chung fu-or was it sheng fui-maybe shuang fei. Something like that...
I know! How weird is that? I mean, I hate anything to do with working out and what is worse is that I hate anything to do with sweating and being hot. I make it a personal rule to never sweat-even when I did work out (as in running, aerobics, and yes... spinning hell class) I did not sweat that much-I always thought of myself as a "glistener"... I "glistened" during those work out regiments and I was fine with that because I did not want to be one of those people who sweat so much that there are drips coming off of their noses and down their arms and pooling in the crotch of their underpants. No-I did not want to sweat so the simple fact that my body did not sweat so much was fine with me. I chucked it up to good genes... or the fact that I probably walk around dehydrated, but that was okay with me-I would rather be dehydrated than look like a wet rag.
But today, I sweat like a pig. Yep. I even had it dripping off of the end of my nose... and guess what? I loved it.
I know! How weird!
You see, "Hot Yoga" is a class where you do some yoga stances in a 105 degree room-and the more people in the class, the hotter the room will get. I think it was about 115 degrees when we were done, which is what I am sure the surface of the sun is set at.
My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest and I couldn't figure out why because we were basically stretching for 90 minutes... yes, 90 minutes of stretching things that I didn't know needed to be stretched in a room as hot as Satan's bedroom.
Did I mention that I was half naked? Yeah-I knew it was going to be hot and my friend had told me to wear as little clothing as possible-so I donned a tank top and itty bitty shorts and stretched myself bending and posing and pulling and leaning. The last time I did so many positions with so little clothing was in January when The Ward was home... and the last time I was in a room full of other half naked people was-uhm, never mind.
I think this may be something that I actually DO... not just say I am going to do and then give up after a while because I can't handle the running and the grapevine moves and the weight lifting and the instructor that tells you you only have 12 more reps of something and then tricks you and makes you do another 12.
I liked the instructor-and she didn't make us bow or pray or say any foreign words. It was all very chill-well, other than the fact that it is hard to chill when you are sitting in hell's waiting room-but you know what I mean.
So it is official... I may just be a granola. First I cut out meat and become a vegetarian... now I am taking up yoga.... next thing you know I'll stop shaving my arm pits and move into a tree.
Pfft... stop shaving my arm pits? No... I am obsessed with shaving my arm pits-and if you know me at all you know that I have OCD with certain things like mascara application and deodorant strokes-so I think I would go crazy if I stopped shaving the pits. Not as crazy as I am right now knowing that I enjoyed sweating like a construction worker this morning-but still crazy.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go look up the meaning of chung fu-or was it sheng fui-maybe shuang fei. Something like that...
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