A couple of months go by and I get the first issue...and since the magazine is like $10 an issue, I read that bitch COVER TO COVER. I can't complain too much, as it is an amazing magazine. I actually enjoy reading the articles and feel zero guilt, unlike after I waste an hour devouring US Weekly. I read every issue, make some of the recipes, share with my girls about what I read in it, etc....then in one issue there is an article about Bikrham Yoga. Here is the link to the article- Yoga Challenge
I read the article and was suckered in. I was in bad shape, but no where near the basket case that wrote the article. Isn't it great when we find someone we perceive to be worse of than ourselves! Such fun. So I found a Bikrham Yoga Studio in my area, I called and got some information and decided to go check it out.
Now here is the dumb ass move of the century: I told THE HUBS about it! DUH- So, we go together and do the class, and that's why I am stuck going for 6 months. It's horrible, awful. I mean really, you feel like throwing up, pooping, passing out and wish for death the last 30 minutes. My brain is out of control the whole class, I have to bite my tongue to no blurt out sarcastic quips to the teachers instructions and and the end of class when the teacher says: Namaste and all the sweaty half dead students lying on the floor reply-"namaste" it takes every ounce of my being not to SHOUT back: NAMASTE BITCHES! I have yet to develop the BALLS to wear my Namaste, Bitches! t-shirt to the Yoga Studio- if you have no idea what I am referring to with the whole Namaste, Bitches! click here
There is one pose called "wind removing pose" and some one farts, with out fail every class, and I am expected to not bust out laughing?!?
The very first class I took the teacher approached me during a simple pose, when you place your forehead to your knee while standing. Well this is not so hard unless you have giant boobs, in which case they are seriously in the way. Believe me I tried moving them to the left, moving them to the right, separating them and bringing my head between the two- um, yeah, wasn't even going to happen. So this 5'10, 80 pound hippy dippy instructor walks over to me and says in her yoga voice (you know what I'm talking about)- This is a compression pose, your forehead must touch your knee. I look up at her, she is wearing yoga shorts and a bikini top, she has NO breasts. I smile and grab my boobies, - I have two very large obstacles, which are in the way. She's cute about it and says she wished she had that problem. In my head I yell: REALLY?! Want a GIANT ASS as well?
More to com eon the Bikram Yoga Torture and how I am paying them a CRAP load of money to sweat, suffer and try to not pass gas (audibly, at least) for at least 3 times a week.