“I’m going to be FORTY” “When?” “SOMEDAY!!!”

So remember awhile ago when I said I wanted to make a change in my life?  Remember the ridiculous list that I wanted to work through before my 40th birthday?.  Remember that I’m an idiot?  I have actually started my list.  No not the fun stuff like drink more wine or recycling.

I have started Yoga.

Daily.

I have started Bikram Yoga Daily.

Daily Bikram Yoga in 104 degree heat.

For those of you who have done bikram or hot yoga in the past I’ll give you a minute to stop laughing and take a pee.  For those of you who haven’t, let me set the stage for those of you.

I walk into the studio and everyone is happy. This should have been a sign, I should have immediately left and ate something fattening.  To be fair, I did spend most of the morning trying to convince myself NOT to go.  I forgot my phone.  I was late to drop of Elijah. I had orange nail polish on my toes that was peeling. My underarms could use a wax.  Believe me the list was endless.  But since I had told a friend and she had excitedly decided to meet me there I was shit out of luck.   The previously mentioned friend is a Yogi…you know the type, stunningly gorgeous, sweet disposition and so fucking flexible that she can do poses that only RUBBERMAN should be able to do.  I hate her.  If she wasn’t such an amazing person (and I’m not just saying that, she doesn’t even read my blog) I would have to run her over with my car.   So back to the torture chamber.  I got there and the wonderful instructor informed us that the humidifier was not hooked up until 5 that night so it would be hot but not ‘juicy’ (her word not mine).  I got into my little yoga shorts and a tank top (there is no room for vanity i learnt that lesson the first time I went to a different studio and wore capri length pants) and entered the pits of hell with antibacterial floors. All I wanted from my practise that day was to do all the poses. That’s it. I just wanted to try every pose.  I didn’t want to sit down or take a minute to contimplate my death, just do all 26 poses and 2 breathing exercises.   That’s really all I could ask of my pathetically non-flexible body.  Okay, what I really wanted was to make it through the class without running out crying and driving to the closest Timmies to drown my sorrows in a double double and a glazed donut.    Well friends, I did it.  I completed my first Bikram class.  I attempted every pose.  I stayed in the room until the end.  I didn’t faint or puke.  But most importantly, I went back the next day.  And I can’t wait to go tomorrow.  And I’m wondering if I can fit in a class over the weekend. I think I may be addicted.