AHHHH! That's what I'm talkin' about!

I feel alive again. So alive in fact, I gotta post this "cheasy" listening tune for your enjoyment. (Side note: How can you NOT love this movie? It's one of Joel Silver's finest producing efforts EVER.)

Back to the hot room. I immediately felt better the moment when I entered the studio and saw my fave teacher, Beth, at the front desk checking everyone in. She's good people. When I moseyed into the hot room, I decided to put my mat in the middle where it is a bit cooler than my usual spot in the back. I tested it today--back of the room is definitely the hottest--even though the owner/teachers claim it's not. My system is quite sensitive to temp change, so I respectfully disagree with them.

The opening breathing exercise showed how rusty I was, however, I wasn't as rusty as originally thought. I  felt much better by about the fifth breath and continued to improve with each pose. So much so I pushed myself more than usual and wasn't in agony like I was during Monday's class. My shoulder pain has disappeared for the time being too--another good sign that I'm doing something right in my life.

Triangle pose wasn't a killer either--it usually leaves my left knee giving me the finger and buckling so I fall on my ass. The thing is, I have extremely strong thighs from years of cycling. I wouldn't be surprised if I could crack walnuts with 'em--that's how powerful they are. Having this freakish amount of thigh strength, makes it easier to get into this pose, this too, let's add this too ... and finally, this one. I do believe that once I drop more weight, all poses will get easier.

Now, on with my day, but not after one more ELO/Xanadu overture with Gene Kelly and his fancy feets.

Achy Breaky Ass

It's been a few days since I've done any yoga. Since I'm not working, the need to take any kind of freelance gig that comes my way takes precedence over any self-improvement/hobbies I'm dabbling in. Plus, this particular gig I wanted to do because I like the people there, it's fun and could possibly lead to future gigs. 

During my brief stint on the copy desk, Bikram was missed. I could feel the "goodness" leaving my body at a rapid pace. The familiar, old aches and pains are slowly creeping back -- especially in my right shoulder, which is "paining" quite a bit. It's irritating me and causing great discomfort. My only remedy (well, not my only--Western med is always an option but I want to try something different) is to get back to Bikram ASAP. So, tomorrow morning at exactly 7:30, I'll be standing on my mat and towel, butt & thighs squeezed tight with all 10 fingers intertwined under my chin, getting ready to BREATHE. Knowing my physical and mental self, relief with be instantaneous .... 

I can't wait. 

On the Night Shift

Tonight I took my first night class. Tonight was the worst physical experience I have ever had. Tonight's class was worse than getting a mole scooped out of my boob, worse than getting a Pap smear and yes, worse than getting a mammogram.

I have never experienced such pain during any type of physical activity before--even when I participated in sports as a kidling. Worse than when I conked my head on the springboard during a reverse one-and-a-half, worse than being kicked in the chest by a horse with rear shoes on. Worse than tumbling over the handle bars of my Kestrel during a ride in the San Gabriel Mountains.

Ok, ok... you get the idea. Bad class.

During the long, lonely walk home down Clark Street in Andersonville, I went over the past couple of days to see what could have made this class so brutal. Perhaps I didn't get enough sleep, or I took an odd step somewhere along the way and didn't realize it until I was in the middle of Balancing Stick.

No, it was simpler than that.

First and foremost, I know I didn't eat nearly as much as I should have. Same goes with water--not nearly enough was consumed. And, because of my parched system, I could feel my body seizing up on me during the floor poses. My rib cage ached--both back and front--the same way my knees and hips did during the standing series. This pain frightened be a bit because I've never felt this type of pain in past Bikram classes. I ended up sitting out a few of the second sets of the standing series and quite a bit of the spine-strengthening series as well. Just couldn't do it. Done. Spent. Kaput. Beat. The towel has been thrown in.

However, during one of the Savasanas, I noticed something about the spot in the room I had chosen. I was in a corner of the room that had two floor heating elements facing in the same direction, which meant to me, that there was twice as much heat being spewed onto me and the guy standing right next to me. He looked like he was hurting as well. I will never go to this corner again. Lesson learned.

So now, I'm off to worship St. Mattress. I just took and Ambien and some high-powered Naproxen so sleep won't be a problem for me tonight.

A little musical interlude for my fans. You're welcome.

The Mirror Has Two Asses

Today, we had a fab new guest teacher, Anne, who is visiting from Ann Arbor for the weekend. I find it helpful to have a new teacher every now and then--gives me a new perspective and it's always good to learn different tricks and tips. The only tip I didn't appreciate was her insistence that we all "grab a piece of the mirror so we can watch ourselves in our poses." See, I hate looking at myself in the mirror. HATE IT. I always have, I always will. I'm quite deft at avoiding mirrors. I could teach a class, go on a lecture tour, preach at symposiums about how to time your gaze perfectly so you don't even see your shadow in a wall of mirrors. It's an art form and part-science, and I'm the best at it.

Is that a good skill to have? Who knows. It's worked for me quite well--until today. I tried to look at my toes in the mirror, but it only worked for so long. I couldn't concentrate and panic was starting to set in. How the hell was I going to get through the act of looking at myself in the mirror without going into convulsions?

Humor.

It dawned on me as my ass hovered above the imaginary chair in Awkward Pose-- I have a great sense of humor--fucking use it, Pud.

Suddenly, class got a whole lot more fun and interesting. During Standing Bow Pulling the Crap Out of Your Hips, Hamstrings and Shoulders, I spied not one, but two asses emanating from my form. Quelle charmante. Always a good look for those in the cheap seats--they don't even need binoculars.

When it was time for the floor version of the above mentioned pose, the Benny Hill Theme was playing in my head to help squelch the desire to let one rip. Yeah, I know, so un-lady-like. I fart. Who doesn't? Time to get over yourself if you're offended.

My wicked sense of humor keeps me from falling ass-over-tea-kettle into the pseudo-cult that is Bikram yoga. I do it for the challenge, the stillness, the sweat, the unpleasant body odor, the GREAT SKIN, the fearless farting and so much more. I don't do it to find my center, to bend & stretch for world peace or to compete. I take Bikram seriously--to a point. I've learned in my quarter decade on this planet *ahem*, that life is too short to take 85 percent of what life throws at you so seriously--especially something like yoga. Can't wait for the "you suck Julia, yoga is the only thing worth living for" comments on this post because it will be oh so fun to think of new and different ways to tell someone to lighten the fuck up.

If you can't laugh at yourself, then what's the point?

Seems appropo.

Muse of the Day: Frustration

I woke up frustrated this morning.

I'm frustrated because of my job-free situation, and even more baffled that no one is willing to take a chance on a hungry, semi-experienced reporter. I'm frustrated by my horrible financial state. I'm frustrated from living in Chicago--possibly the most expensive city in the country--tax-wise--and I can't enjoy it nearly as much as I'd like to. I'm frustrated I can't see my East and West coast pals more--I miss them dearly.

I'm frustrated because I have absolutely nothing to show for my life. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Zero.

During breakfast this morning, this frustration was not helping my digestion. In fact, it made my stomach hurt. Tums didn't help and neither did the forced, loud belches that shook the walls and caused foundation cracks. As I was squeezing my sore ass into my dry, but stank-ass yoga clothes this morning, excuses to not go to Bikram ran through what's left of my mind: My clothes stink. My stomach hurts. I'll probably end up farting real loud during class and everyone will turn, point and laugh at me. I don't feel like sweating. My ass is too big. I fucking hate my hair. I look like shit. I mulled over every excuse but couldn't pick a good one. I know that if I had missed class, I'd really be pissing guilt all over myself. Nope. I didn't have the stomach for it, natch. So, I gathered up my yoga gear, waved bye to the WGN Morning News Team, got into my mold-ridden shit car and drove to the studio.

Great. Class was crowded as fuck today. Super. John was teaching and I LOVE him. He's great--patient, explains everything clearly and it's obvious he loves to teach. Today I noticed that he looks like a young, James Caan--but cuter and not as hairy. 'Tis something you want in a male Bikram instructor who's half-nekkid in class. Trust me on this one folks.

During the opening breathing exercise, frustration left me for a bit and from what I could tell, was giving one of my fellow classmates one hell of a time. She looked pissed--I caught her gaze in the mirror and flashed her a small "I feel your pain" smile. She smiled back then relaxed a bit.

Everything was fine until this pose. The most important thing to remember about this pose is you're supposed to keep your standing leg straight--no bend in the knee, no nothing. If you can't keep your solid, standing leg from wobbling or bending, you're not supposed to move onto the next part of the posture. Today, I noticed that so many of my fellow classmates were not keeping their standing leg straight. Yes, Bikram Police,  I'm aware that you're not supposed to pay attention to your fellow yogis/yoginis during class, but I sat out the first round because of my frustrated stomach. Even when John explained, in plain language, the importance of keeping your standing leg uber-straight, the concept was still lost on some folks.

Whatever.

I did it the correct way the second time and that's all that matters. If these folks want to screw up their spines, then go right ahead.

For the rest of the class, frustration made a few more appearances but was gone by the final Savasana. I let it all go as I gazed at the pale-blue ceiling, and felt my body relax into my mat. Class was over. It wasn't one of my more productive ones, but the fact that I even showed up counts for something.

My little victory was tarnished when I arrived home to two job rejections. That's five for the week. Aannnd there's that frustration again--coming in through the bathroom window. Sigh.

Fear Ho-Ho's and cheeseburgers, not Bikram.

Where am I in the class count? Oh, somewhere in the nineties I believe. I'll check later.

One of the side effects of doing such intense balancing, breathing, stretching and sweating is I want to make the rest of my life healthier. And, when I say 'the rest of my life,' I mean my diet. This is being accomplished but in baby steps. I'm not going to give up chocolate, peanut butter or anything of that ilk completely--it just ain't gonna happen--and those who say I MUST are full of shit. Also, I'm no longer beating myself up if I eat a few Oreos and wash them down with some red wine. During class yesterday, Jessica told us a Bikram Choudury gem. Recently, at a teacher training class, Bikram told his students (paraphrasing here) to tell their beginners not to fear the heat, the poses, the carpet or the 90 minute class, but the ho-ho's and cheeseburgers that got them to go to Bikram in the first place.

Hmm. Interesting. Makes total sense. I've read various pieces that claim that weight loss is between 80-90% diet, while exercise is not that important. Of course, exercise is essential to overall health, but it's not a necessity for weight loss. It finally dawned on me that eating crap and exercising like an MMA fighter and not seeing any results in my shape, was a huge waste of time and energy. So I decided to do something about it. I may even kick caffeine one of these days, but I'm still in the phase where thinking of a caffeine-free Julia reduces me to tears. Again with the baby steps.

Today's class was very crowded with an eclectic group--something I always like to see--not just in yoga, but out in the world. I'm getting more comfortable with this pose and this one too--so comfortable in fact that I push myself to kick harder and drop my head back further to find a new stillness. It's working. We'll see what the next few classes bring because I'm sure I'll fuck it all up somehow. 'Tis the story of my life.

One recent drawback--my groin is sore, so I may act all chill n' stuff for the next class or so. I don't want to end up like Randy Gardner.

A gal's gotta eat--just not crap

It's been about two and a half hours since number 94 ended, and I'm still not hungry. I've been pounding water like there's no tomorrow but hunger has evaded me since I woke up this morning. Around 7am, I forced myself to eat non-fat Greek yogurt, homemade granola and coffee with the best stuff on Earth stirred in.

Knowing how my body works, I managed to down a grapefruit and one of these crazy muffins made with pure pumpkin puree instead of oil and eggs before my system went into full melt-down mode. When that happens, it'll take the strength of Georges St. Pierre to keep me from heading over to the local Jewelito to load up on DoubleStuf Oreos and chocolate milk. It just proves that an eating disorder never truly goes away--it's always there--kinda like, oh, I don't know, herpes and being an asshole. I will eat something soon. I promise.

After class, I struck up a conversation with two very nice women who have just started doing Bikram. One was around my age and the other, I'm guessing, was a bit younger. Somehow body image came up and I mentioned how American women are expected to be a size 0 no matter what. She could be the smartest women around but if she's over a size 0, she's seen as unworthy of just about everything life has to offer. Recently, I read an article about how most American women would rather suffer from severe depression than be obese. We have to wonder about a society that puts so little value on a woman's intelligence, and more on the size of her thighs. Utter bullshit. I've witnessed this horrid behaviour with close friends and family members, and I don't put up with it anymore.

My self-image waivers from time to time too. A friend of mine recently accused me of having a poor self-image, which I fervently denied but he's right. I do. My attempts to make up for it by being smart & funny only have a limited success. It's a daily struggle--even for us smart women who know our worth, but are bombarded with Madison Avenue's message at every turn. All I can say is those who write us off  because our chests aren't concave, are missing out.

But, I digress... where was I? Oh yes, my two new pals I met. One was wondering if you can lose weight with Bikram and I believe it's possible. Some experts claim one can burn between 800 and 1500 calories per session--depending on body weight. I used to obsess about it, but now how Bikram makes me feel physically and mentally is more important than whether or not my ass is getting smaller. It will shrink with time and by doing other activities like walking or running. Sure, there are a couple of women in class who look at the more zaftig women sideways, but they seem really sad to me.

So, on that note, I think I'll mosey on into the kitchen and rustle up some grub.

For you. Thanks.

Top of the Ninety-fifth ...

I never said my yoga challenge was going to be perfect.

Life gets in the way and sometimes, I'm just too damn lazy to do anything except pee, nosh and look at Internet porn. Most weeks, I only wash my hair once. That's because I have a ton of hair and don't like being underwater for too long-reminds me too much of water boarding. Of course, I shower everyday, but the scrubbing of the locks is only a weekly occurrence until I get a job or when the court orders me to bathe more thoroughly. So, until either of those events happen, I'll just remain holed up in my apartment, not bothering the outside world with my greasy lid or my permanent sneer.

I completed number ninety-five. No great breakthroughs, sadly, just this nagging lower-back pain on my right side that hurts during forward bending poses. Camel, Standing Bow, Balancing Stick and the one where you're supposed to pull your forehead to the floor whilst your legs are all spread eagle, don't hurt at all. However, Eagle Pose is brutal. I can't hold it and when I swing my arms to cross one under the other, all I want to do is Vogue. I tap my feet a bit then the next thing I know, I'm doing Warren Beatty circa 1993. That's not a good image for anyone to have drifting in and out of their subconscious. Great. Now I need one of these. And maybe one of these too.

I'm not even going to discuss this one.  It aggravates this too much at times.

99, 98, 97, 96 ... or "Pain is the gift that nobody wants."

Ninety-nine passed by with little or no discomfort. I did have some post-Bikram gas pains though which forced me to gulp down a couple handfuls of Tums. That stuff's nasty too, but it works. One thing I've noticed about post-Bikram class is I have to force myself to eat. The hunger is not there for about 6 hours after class and even then, I have to psych myself up to make a salad. However, I am thirsty, so I drink copious amounts of water--an act that has never been a problem for me at all.

Class 98 was not fun. Not at all. I was thirstier than usual even though I drink more than enough water when not in class. The attempts to quell my thirst with breathing (which is what Bikram suggests students do before hitting the bottle), weren't successful at all, so I was sucking down water during the floor portion of the class. Then, the pesky lower back pain on my right side just above my hip resurfaced during the final savasana. However, I think that has more to do with how I sit during the day and where I sit--on a couch that doesn't provide much lumbar support. The thing is, I need a proper desk and one of them fancy Aeron chairs that's made from Aeron virgins. Then, my back issues will disappear. But, before I can obtain these necessary objects, I need to get a job. Believe me, I'm trying but to no avail. And, of course, I can't get my unemployment & financial woes out of my head when I'm in class. It ain't gonna happen no matter how hard I try.

Number 97 made me feel old and rickety. Jessica taught this class and while I was in this pose, she said something that still resonates with me to this day and it's something I'll never forget: "Pain is the gift that nobody wants." If you feel pain, that means you're alive (duh) and your body is telling you something. In this instance, I imagine that Jessica was alluding to how fucking much your arms hurt during this particular pose--like your arms are gonna snap in two with blood and ick spraying everywhere. By the way, I suck shit at Lotus pose. The single leg poses I can do without a hitch, but the double leg like the picture? Nope. I can maybe lift my gams up about 4 inches but that's it. It's still not as difficult as this pose or this one. I find it hard to believe the woman demo'ing Half-Moon in the photo was smiling. I'll bet she has some sort of epidural plugged into her back helping her get through it all.

But, with the way I'm going, this will be me in about 20 years. Hooker boots and all.

When I woke up this morning, I felt the best I've felt in months. My lower-back didn't hurt and my knees didn't creak at all. Also, my vision wasn't as blurry as it is most mornings. No Ambien hangover, no wishing I were somewhere OR someone else. Strange. I ate my Greek yogurt with home-made granola and slurped down coffee doused with the best stuff on Earth. Then, after a couple of hours, I donned my yoga apparel and moseyed on over to the studio. While getting ready in the ladies' locker room, I overheard two young women bitching about how much they hated the new Land Rover. And, how the new Rolexes aren't all that. Seriously, my eyes are still hurting from all the eye rolling I did during that 10 minute conversation. Sure I could've left, but why? These gals provided me with GREAT material! I could go on and on about what they were griping about, but it would just depress the shit out you. But trust me when I say this: The rich are different than us.

Onto to number 96. I had a good class. Very good. Some poses I sat out but for the most part, the poses that have been vexing me in the past, I could do. And, more importantly, there was no slurping water or searing back pain. My back felt strong & bendy during it all. I even laughed a bit when I knocked my neighbor's paw during this pose.

The best of the class? When the instructor farted during an explanation then admitted to it. Totally made my day.