In a rush of misjudgement, I decided to go to a yoga class this afternoon.
STUPID!!! Let me first say, I am a bit overweight. When I was married I weighed about 135 and in high school, I was about 125. 5 years later, I'm now at a staggering 168 on a 5'6" frame. I'm a biggin. I went through a time two years ago where I had reached 200 lbs thanks to a myriad of meds I was on at the time for antidepression. At that time, I went on weight watchers and started watching what I ate and dropped back down to 160. My ideal weight, which I still have yet to see since I was 23, is 145. I'm realistic as I'd
like to see the 130s again, but I know it ain't gonna happen.
I am not one for exercise at all. That's why yoga appeals to me. To me, yoga seems very relaxing. You get a mat. You practice breathing. You lay on the floor. BaddaBoom baddabing, you're done. You didn't even know you were burning calories, right? Right?
Hells no.
I took up the offer for a free introductory class at my local yuppie studio. Since we live in Yuppieville where there's smoothie places and hookah bars galore, yoga is pretty much a staple thing. I knew I was in trouble when I walked in and saw that I was the 12th person to sign in and there were 5 people behind me. This was to be no small class. These people meant business.
Unlike the other 1 studio I've been to ever in my life, this place was tons different. You had to remove your shoes before stepping into the studio. The place had the lights so low I couldn't see where I was going. The sign on the door said to "observe silence." I walked in on tippy toes and laid my mat down in the
front of the room because that's the only spot that was left. Bad idea. I quickly noticed the temperature, which was hovering around 150' because of the 5 big heaters cranked up on high. "Goddamnit. It's one of those
hot classes. I thought I signed up for the most basic of basics. You know the "pudgy girls yoga?" Nope. This class was a skinny bitch mecca. On top of that, I was looking forward to soft, meditative music. You know, to relax? Instead, as soon as the music clicked on, I was listening to Beyonce's
"Put a Ring On It."For the next hour I was stuffed between two skinny bitches who were constantly showing their prowess by doing 10 minute headstands while I was panting, like a dog, in the downward dog position. To better things, one of those girls told people in the waiting room, "This is my first time doing yoga since the baby was born last month." Ugh. Apparently, having a baby does not inhibit one from standing on ones head. Maybe that is how she ended up pregnant in the first place? (I think we infertiles should pay mind to this fertile superwoman. Note this in the log book.)
By the time we were down and had Om'ed and bowed, I was ready to get the hell outta Dodge. My hair, which is cut into a short bob, was soaked in sweat. I'm pretty sure I sweated from every pore in my body. The skinny bitches walking out of class looked refreshed and satisfied, while I looked like a drenched cow.
I drove straight home and was greeted to the smell of chili I made earlier cooking in the crock pot. I now feel like I'd rather throw up than eat a big heaping hot bowl of chili. So maybe this whole losing weight thing might work after all?
Anyways, I'd like to think that if I can get my fat ass in gear, I might be able to lose some weight and exercise some internal organs and muscles and thus get myself knocked up. Sounds easy right? Then maybe if I do get pregnant, I can pop that baby right out while I'm in the "praying buddah" pose and not feel a thing? Or maybe I can be like the skinny bitch from class and do some headstands one month after the babys born?
Ah. It all sounds good in theory.
Let me first say, I am a bit overweight. When I was married I weighed about 135 and in high school, I was about 125. 5 years later, I'm now at a staggering 168 on a 5'6" frame. I'm a biggin. I went through a time two years ago where I had reached 200 lbs thanks to a myriad of meds I was on at the time for antidepression. At that time, I went on weight watchers and started watching what I ate and dropped back down to 160. My ideal weight, which I still have yet to see since I was 23, is 145. I'm realistic as I'd like to see the 130s again, but I know it ain't gonna happen.
I am not one for exercise at all. That's why yoga appeals to me. To me, yoga seems very relaxing. You get a mat. You practice breathing. You lay on the floor. BaddaBoom baddabing, you're done. You didn't even know you were burning calories, right? Right?
Hells no.
I took up the offer for a free introductory class at my local yuppie studio. Since we live in Yuppieville where there's smoothie places and hookah bars galore, yoga is pretty much a staple thing. I knew I was in trouble when I walked in and saw that I was the 12th person to sign in and there were 5 people behind me. This was to be no small class. These people meant business.
Unlike the other 1 studio I've been to ever in my life, this place was tons different. You had to remove your shoes before stepping into the studio. The place had the lights so low I couldn't see where I was going. The sign on the door said to "observe silence." I walked in on tippy toes and laid my mat down in the front of the room because that's the only spot that was left. Bad idea. I quickly noticed the temperature, which was hovering around 150' because of the 5 big heaters cranked up on high. "Goddamnit. It's one of those hot classes. I thought I signed up for the most basic of basics. You know the "pudgy girls yoga?" Nope. This class was a skinny bitch mecca. On top of that, I was looking forward to soft, meditative music. You know, to relax? Instead, as soon as the music clicked on, I was listening to Beyonce's "Put a Ring On It."
For the next hour I was stuffed between two skinny bitches who were constantly showing their prowess by doing 10 minute headstands while I was panting, like a dog, in the downward dog position. To better things, one of those girls told people in the waiting room, "This is my first time doing yoga since the baby was born last month." Ugh. Apparently, having a baby does not inhibit one from standing on ones head. Maybe that is how she ended up pregnant in the first place? (I think we infertiles should pay mind to this fertile superwoman. Note this in the log book.)
By the time we were down and had Om'ed and bowed, I was ready to get the hell outta Dodge. My hair, which is cut into a short bob, was soaked in sweat. I'm pretty sure I sweated from every pore in my body. The skinny bitches walking out of class looked refreshed and satisfied, while I looked like a drenched cow.
I drove straight home and was greeted to the smell of chili I made earlier cooking in the crock pot. I now feel like I'd rather throw up than eat a big heaping hot bowl of chili. So maybe this whole losing weight thing might work after all?
Anyways, I'd like to think that if I can get my fat ass in gear, I might be able to lose some weight and exercise some internal organs and muscles and thus get myself knocked up. Sounds easy right? Then maybe if I do get pregnant, I can pop that baby right out while I'm in the "praying buddah" pose and not feel a thing? Or maybe I can be like the skinny bitch from class and do some headstands one month after the babys born?
Ah. It all sounds good in theory.