Archive | July 2014

Namaste, Bitches.

Welp, I’m alive. I’ve been wrung out, drained of all water in my body. I literally drank 33.3 ounces of water during and I still haven’t peed!! (that was 4 hours ago — and no, I don’t believe in TMI)

For the uninitiated, Bikram yoga involves doing a series of 26 poses in a room heated to 105 degrees. It didn’t seem oppressively hot to me today but I suppose that b/c it’s summer. Walking into that room when it’s 30 degrees out?? Must be almost painful. So, here are the 26 postures (please note, #14 is “wind removing pose”):

So, the smell. I went into the room to “acclimate” before class started. I nearly turned around and left immediately. Wet dog. Sort of moldy. And the air was thick. I decided to stay (b/c frugal) and suck it up. Naturally, I was surrounded by the soon-to-be-sweaty men that I feared. The one to my right was a tall black god-like creature with sculpted muscles. Man to the left was a small, furry, woodland creature. I found him staring at me several times. LOOK AWAY.

Oh, btw, it’s a naked sort of activity. The men were in tight lycra looking shorts and no shirts. *shrieks* Women were wearing sports bras and tiny shorts. I wore a sports bra and running shorts, sans undies. There was a little net thingy for breathability. Ahem. The women’s outfits didn’t bother me. Maybe I’m a prude (HA!) but I don’t want to see looking at naked men’s furry chests. Then again, as I said, that dude to my right…

So, it begins and I’m instantly annoyed. Blahblahblahvashana pose and humming nonsense. Jaysus. And lots of exhaling. We’re trapped in this room and we’re consciously filling it with CO2. It’s a wonder we didn’t end up passing out due to lack of oxygen by the end of the 90 minutes. Yes, 90. This is one of the major reasons why I’m not doing this again. 90-freaking-minutes. A 60 minute class is bad enough. 90? Plus, the acclimating thing and peeing 3 times beforehand. Ugh. Too long. Literally dripping sweat from my entire body. My shins? Sweaty. Forearms too. Who knew forearms had sweat glands?? The poses themselves don’t look that hard, right?? My main difficulty was trying to hold onto my body parts with sweat-slicked hands. I had a tee shirt that I was using to try to mop up my sweat but it was futile. And the towel covering my yoga mat was drenched too. UGH. By the end, I was basically not even trying to do the poses — I was flailing my body around and sighing loudly, pretending it was the pretentious breathing nonsense.

Which brings me to another point. Yoga types act all free spirited and zen but they are snooty, competitive bitches. Killing themselves by contorting into some seriously effed up positions to a) impress the instructor and b) be braggy bitches. Overhead in the locker room: “Oh, you looked like you had such a good practice today” “Oh, thanks. I’ve been practicing for so long“…um, why do they call it a practice? JFC. Just DO it. Does that sound snotty to anyone else? Maybe my severe dehydration has made me extra bitchy? The poses and breathing all have sanskrit names — can you say pretentious in sanskrit? Ends in ends in –vashana I’m sure. *rolls eyes*

On a positive note, I didn’t shit my pants or anything. Nor did my fellow um, practicers. It smelled like sweat socks but not sweat. Thank you, Jesus. Nor did I smell any asparagus or taco meat…or whiskey… I am slightly surprised that my sweat wasn’t effervescent due to the amount of DC and sparkling wine I’ve been guzzling this summer. That might be refreshing, no? Sweat that fizzed a bit? Sort of a cooling sensation.

Yes, I am dehydrated. Spouting nonsensical stuff. At least I can tell the Frug I’m saving him the $250 I was planning on spending on the hot yoga groupon — it seemed like such a good deal! lol  #everFrugal

Prayers Needed

In an effort to break through a weight loss plateau, I’m about to head into a Bikram yoga class. 90 minutes in a room heated to about 105 degrees.

What if I die? What if I pass out? What if everyone smells??? I’ve done this one other time, a few years ago. The sights and smells have been difficult to erase from my memory. Think “sweat dripping from man balls”… No — really. People strip down to 70s length running shorts and revel in their sweatiness.

I’ve prepaid so canceling would NOT be frugal. Sigh.

This may be my last post.

Please enjoy this while I suffer:

 

Slacking Slacker

Who’s the crappiest blogger?? I AM! It’s not that I don’t have anything to say. I actually have a long list of topics, from travel to water parks to hot soccer players.

School is OUT. I’ve been to Mexico. Suffered a bad brow wax and a home dye job. Mama is bbbiiizzzzeeeeeeee. Lol

I shall do my best to get back to writing my personal brand of superficial nonsense. Soon.