The End of an Era

This week marks the beginning of the end of a few monumental things in my life.

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For starters, it is the last week of my 20's.  I turn 30 this Saturday.  

Do you want to know a good way to not give a rat's ass about turning 30?  Be 9 months pregnant on your Birthday.  Suddenly getting older seems a lot less significant than the human being that is about to exit your body and enter your life.  Forever.

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It also marks the end of my illustrious business career in real estate and beyond.  I'm officially retiring this Friday.  Most people who retire when they are 29 are super rich Internet bubble geniuses who are going to sit back on their mega yachts and count their monies.   I, on the other hand, am going to stock up on Ramen Noodles and nearly expired meats and start couponing my ass off.  I shall consider it my greatest challenge to date.

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 I don't even know if the people at my office know I'm leaving, but I'm sure they don't really care. When the most frequently asked question you get at your workplace is why you have hot sauce on your desk, rest assured, you will not be that missed by the end of the next week. 

And finally, this week, and today specifically, mark the end of my prenatal yoga experience.  Thank the yogi gods above that today's class was the last class of my yoga package, because I simply cannot salute the sun anymore at this size.  

You know it's time to temporarily hang up your yoga pants when you are involuntarily making the following position modifications:

Downward Down ---> Paralyzed Polar Bear that has just been hit with a tranquilizer dart

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Child's Pose ---> Depressed, defeated sumo wrestler

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Happy Baby ---> Actual woman giving birth

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It's not even so much the size of my stomach standing in my way as it is the sensation of a 20 lb bowling bowl hanging right in and around my pubic bone.  The pain is real.  And it is increasing by the minute.  

One more modification that is temporarily permanent in my life:

TGIF ---> TGIOHTMWLTGA (Thank Goodness I Only Have Three More Weeks Left To Go...Allegedly)

Prenatal Yoga & the Art of Just Breathing

Last night I took my first official "Prenatal Yoga" class.  It was remarkable only in the sense that it was not exercise at all.  

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Like, basically you just have to be able to breath to do it.

Like, I don't even need to wear a sports bra to the next class but I'm going to because regular bras now hit the upper part of my humongous stomach in such a way as to cause serious irritation so I relish all excuses to ditch the under wire.

It's official.  Pregnancy progression is inversely related to bringing sexy back.

The class was great though.  I highly recommend it if you are Pre, Natal, and want a calm hour to yourself.  It's at Heartsong Yoga on Oleander and it's offered as a 4 week program every month.

 

Despite it's calming nature, however, I could not stop giggling to myself thinking how great it would be, after the entire class introduces themselves, for the teacher to say, instead of "Who here has never done yoga before?"

"OK, Who here is a virgin?"

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 You know...because everyone is busting at the maternity spandex with fetuses.

I'm totally going to use that in my next life as a new age prenatal yogi.

Lulu Hooha

Do you remember earlier this year when Lulu Lemon had to recall some of their yoga pants because they were completely see thru?

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Well if you didn't ever get that memo than you are not unlike the two ladies I've seen in the last few months in yoga and pure barre...whose entire lady bits I am now intimately familiar with after having them placed, in a variety of toning positions, right in my face for an hour each respectively.

 

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I would totally tell a friend.  Even a casual acquaintance.  But it's just too damn awkward to tell a total stranger that you can see their complete vagina.  Especially after having not said anything for the entire hour before. 

 

Lulu Lemon, maybe do some fitness ladies a solid and re-release that announcement?  Clearly there are a few among us who missed it the first time!

 

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Yogi Bear

Sometimes when I take yoga classes and the teachers try to get all deep on my and tell me to feel my inner glow, I just want to do this:

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Less talky, more stretchy.

Take Time

Sometimes, at the end of a yoga class, when the teacher says to take a moment to think about your intentions for the rest of the day, instead of thinking of light and love and all that shit, I think to myself: "It'll be Gaaaa-reeeeat!"  Like Tony the Tiger.

 

That's how I know I'll never be fully spiritual.  Or fully mature.

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Yoga 1, Mamacita 0

Oh one more thing about the hot yoga class I somehow forgot to mention.  I tried to leave halfway through the class.  And the teacher wouldn't let me.

Your mind is weak!  Your body is strong!  Sit the f*ck back down!

So I failed at failing.  Which is always a good feeling.  Especially in front of a group of 20 people.

Hella Hot

Have you ever tried Bikram/Hot Yoga?

I did yesterday and I can describe it in one word - O.M.G.



I knew it was going to be hot.  But nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for that experience.  The thermometer in the room said 107 degrees Fahrenheit.  And the clock said NOTHING, because there was no clock.  It was essentially like being locked in a torture chamber for an unknown period of time. 

Who invents stuff like this?  My money's on the sadomasochists of yester year.  It was truly the most frightened I've ever been during exercise.

But at least I can now say that I have actively sweated from my feet, because that has always been a life goal of mine.  Not. 

And boy was cotton a bad choice.  I realized at the beginning of the class that I was wearing about 90% more clothes than anyone else, but didn't think anything of it because I just thought they wanted to show off their yoga-toned stomachs.  By the end of the class, when my shirt had created a makeshift heat trap around my neck and upper body, I realized what was up, as I suddenly had the urge to take off all my clothes and burn them.

These are my clothes after the class, soaked through 100%.  That just has never happened to me before!

Will I ever dry?

I can't decide if I'm going to do it again.  I bought a 30-day unlimited pass for $40, but I'm still on the fence about my return.  To sum up, I thought I was going to faint for at least half of the class, I spent at least 10% of the class lying on the ground because I thought I was going to pass out, I cried at least once because I thought I was going to pass out, but you couldn't tell it was tears because I was sweating so hard from the almost-passing out.  Oh, and then I had an absolute raging headache for the rest of the night.

But on the plus side I lost a pound.  Is anyone out there a die hard proponent of Bikram Yoga?  I want to try again but I just need some sort of reassurance that it gets better.  Otherwise I just made a $40 donation to a new business.  I guess it could be worse!

Namaste

Last night I went to a pretty awesome yoga class. I actually worked up a sweat, it was pretty hard, and, much to my surprise, the teacher wasn't that weird. Usually I find yoga teachers to be very strange and smelly.

During our 5 minute wind down meditation, I kept thinking about how impressively normal this teacher was. Then, wait for it...

He bid us adieu by saying, "I bless the light and life in each of you."

Yikes, getting a little to zen for me.

Then the real kicker...

"Also, this Saturday I'm teaching a voluntary class at my home at 6am, followed by a vegetarian potluck and an outdoor campfire."

Meat eater says what?!

A) If you think I'm waking up at 6am on Saturday, you're crazy.

B) If I am going to wake up that early for anything, there better be a mixed medley of breakfast meats involved.

C) If this schedule looks the way I think it does, that campfire is going to be around 9am. Somehow ghost stories and organic s'mores just don't carry that same nostalgia when the sun is still rising.

Survey says: Yoga teachers are still weird. But I really liked the class :)