In the past few years, I have gone through hell. Not the sulphur and pitchforks kind, the absurd, asinine kind. Where people will ask me in amazement how I'm dealing with the shit I've been handed and I just shrug my shoulders because there really is nothing to say. I got screwed, blued and tattooed. Well, not tattooed, but definitely screwed. So while I'm trying to cope with said screwing, I have received advise on how best to handle the mental and physical stress that has come from my ridiculous screwing.
Punching Bag.
Yoga
Pilates
Meditation
Ice Cream
All have been suggested as potential stress relievers. After another metaphorical kidney punch, I was in desperate need of some stress relief. Keep in mind, the stress I'm talking about put me in the hospital last year with a pseudo heart attack...was diagnosed with "Broken Heart Syndrome". Google it.
Anyway, to avoid a repeat visit, I have been trying to better handle the pile of bullshit that keeps being forced down my gullet by a sociopath and accomplice.
I posted some 'poor me' things on Facebook, which drew the attention of a teacher at my children's school.
Who asked me if I wanted to do Hot Yoga with her.
No.
I didn't.
But she assured me it was a great stress reliever.
And that I wouldn't have a heart attack.
In my desperation for some fraction of peace, I said yes.
Shit.
Text from Teacher: Are you going to make it to yoga?
Me: Going to try! (not really)
Teacher: Do you need a mat? I have an extra in my trunk.
Me: Have one, on my way...what if I'm late? (yes, I have a mat and at this point I gave in)
Teacher: They lock the door at 5. I can let her know you're on your way so she can let you in.
Me: Lock the door? WTF? (pause...because WTF???)
Note: evidently, because they like the room to be hotter than hell, they lock the door to keep people from barging in and messing with their peace and shit. And temperature.
So if you've been contemplating hot yoga, please feel free to follow my guide.
Hot Yoga
Screech in because you are late.
Grab dog hair covered mat and approach locked door. Wonder if it is also locked from the inside because that would be just fucked up, not to mention a huge fire marshall offense.
Yoga lady lets you in. Room is dark. There are about 20 people and they appear to be segregated by fitness levels. Close to the door are the pudgier people. Further away are the fit, toned, yoga bodied people. The Teacher has saved you a spot next to her, in Hottie Town. You stand out like a sore thumb.
Roll out mat like you know what you're doing.
Notice it is really, really hot.
Try to copy pose.
Fail.
Take in fellow yoga-ers.
The guy next to you is a million years old and of Asian descent. Decide to call him Egg Roll.
The woman in front is about the same size as you, only rather than wearing the loose workout pants and t shirt you have chosen, she is in tight shorts and a sports bra. With a large fleshy tire hanging over her waistband. Be proud of fellow chubber and decide she shall be known simply as Green Tank Top.
Son's teacher is a little in front of you, giving you a perfect view of her perfect butt. Think that if she wore those shorts to any school function, a lot of middle school boys and their fathers would re-discover Van Halen's Hot For Teacher because...damn.
Try the next pose.
Fall a little bit.
Notice it is getting hotter in here.
Yoga teacher is telling you to inhale and AXhale. Not EXhale, but AXhale. This will bug you the entire rest of the class..sort of like when people say melk instead of milk. Dub her Axhale.
Remember Hot Teacher telling you that hot yoga will create such a diversion from the thoughts in your mind that you can't help but relax. This is true. Because all you are doing at this point is wondering where all this god damn heat is coming from and where the nearest hospital if should you require medical care.
There are little puddles of sweat in your bra, under each boob.
Take in room and try to determine age of building and if the electrical is up to code because it is scorching in here.
Egg Roll is axhaling his ass off.
Hot teacher has become a human pretzel.
Green tank top is lying on her mat like a beached whale. It's possible she's dead.
Axhale keeps talking about interlacing fingers and trying for a standing split.
This involves one foot on the ground, the other way up high.
Think if you can master THIS pose, your celibate days might be O-V-E-R.
Give it a try.
Fall.
Realize part of the reason you fell was because the bottoms of your feet are so god damn sweaty, you have no traction.
Wonder if there is something wrong with the giant heaters because you now notice your underwear are wet and in your confusion, falling and sweating, you have no idea if you have pee'd yourself in or if this place is seriously so fucking hot your lady parts are sweating, too.
Axhale keeps babbling.
Tune her out.
Copy Egg Roll and Hot Teacher.
Green Tank Top hasn't moved.
Axhale doesn't seem to notice the possible corpse because she's too busy talking about how good this bullshit is for you.
See there are ceiling fans, which are doing nothing more than swirling the hot air around.
Watch as Axhale goes to door.
She opens it.
She must have realized the heater was broken or someone set it to 5 million degrees.
A cool breeze comes in and you try to soak it up.
Then, she closes the door.
Wonder if Axhale has ever been accused of being a prick tease.
That was just fucked up.
After the ten second taste of fresh air, you're insanely hot.
Wonder if this is what drug addiction feels like...because now you know that cold, fresh air is so close... you've had a taste and you want more. And would do anything for it.
Every blood vessel in your face is about to burst.
You look like an old alcoholics nose, only it's your entire face.
Your cute hair clip is falling out because your scalp if dripping with sweat...you now look like one of those middle aged ladies with the wierd giant buns on their head, only instead of a giant bun it's a spastic bun, flopping all over the place.
Axhale has decided now's the time for power sit ups. Don't even try this.
Wonder if Axhale is like Sookie Stackhouse and can read your mind because if she could, she would know how pertinent it is to her safety to open that fucking door again and give you another taste of freedom.
She doesn't do this.
Instead, she suggests a move that you can only refer to as "Ass end over tea kettle" pose.
Of course, Hot Teacher and Egg Roll are in this position, staring at the tops of their feet from an upside down and backwards position. Green Tank Top is decomposing.
Sit on your ass in defiance and drink water.
Notice clock.
It's almost over!
Decide to attempt last pose.
Squish boob while attempting said last pose.
Do some weird breathing thing wrong and accidentally hyperventilate.
As if knowing she is on your shit list, Axhale tries to make up for her inability to operate a thermostat by spritzing water on you as you lay there; it evaporates before it even reaches your skin, making you even more annoyed with Axhale the Prick Tease.
Survive class.
Get little schedule that explains how hot yoga can burn up to 1200 calories per session.
Decide to give Axhale another chance. For Now.
Provided the red tomato look you are currently sporting goes away and you look human again at some point.
