Usually after bikram I shower immediately, but today I thought to snap a couple sweaty pics first. I feel better than I have all day, I’m so glad I went to class. Headache gone, spirit lifted, yoga is my medicine.

Hot yoga

My timeline breakdown of my hot yoga experience

Register for hot yoga class. Infinite wisdom tells me to commit to 5 class packages. I pay $89.74. Money well spent, I smugly confirm to myself.

Open door to yoga room. A gush of hot dry air rushes through and past me. It smells of breath, sweat and hot. Take spot on floor in back of room next to cute guy. We will date.

I feel the need to be as near to naked as possible. This is a problem because of the hot guy to my left and our pending courtship. He will not be pleased to learn that I need to lose 15 pounds before I propose to him

The shirt and sweats have to come off. I throw caution to the wind and decide to rely on my wit and conditioning to overcome any weight issues my fiancée may take issue with. This will take a lot of wit and conditioning.

Begin small talk with my husband to be. He pretends to ignore me but I know how he can be. I allow him to concentrate and stare straight ahead and continue to pretend that I don’t exist. As we finish sharing our special moment, I am suddenly aware of a sweat mustache that has formed below my nose. This must be from the all the whispering between us.

Instructor enters the room and ascends her special podium at the front of the room. She is a tiny Chinese woman. She introduces me to the class and everyone turns around to greet me just as I decide to aggressively adjust my underwear in my Under Armor. My husband is notably unfazed.

Since I do have experience with yoga I fully consider that I may be so outstanding and skilled that my instructor may call me out and ask me to guide the class. My husband will look on with a sparkle in his eye. We will make love after class.

It is now up to 95 degrees in the room. We have been practicing deep breathing exercises for the last 8 minutes. This would not be a problem if we were all breathing actual, you know, oxygen. Instead, we are breathing each other’s body odor, expelled carbon dioxide and other unmentionables. (Don’t worry, I’ll mention them later.)

It is now 100 degrees and I take notice of the humidity, which is hovering at about 90%. I feel the familiar adorning stare of my groom and decide to look back at him. He appears to be nauseated. I then realize that I forgot to brush my teeth prior to attending this class. We bond.

It is now 110 degrees and 95% humidity. I am now balancing on one leg with the other leg crossed over the other. My arms are intertwined and I am squatting. The last time I was in this position was 29 years ago in the womb, but I’m in this for the long haul. My husband looks slightly weathered sweat is streaming down his face. Well, “for better or worse” is what we committed to so we press on.

The overweight Hispanic man two spots over has sweat running down his legs. At least I think its sweat. He is holding every position and has not had a sip of water since we walked in. He is making me look bad and I hate him.

I consider that if anyone in this room farted that we would all certainly perish.

It is now 140 degrees and 100% humidity. I am covered from head to toe in sweat. There is not a square millimeter on my body that is not slippery and sweaty. I am so slimy that I feel like a sea lion or a maybe sea eel. Not even a bear trap could hold me. The sweat is stinging my eyeballs and I can no longer see.

This room stinks of asparagus, cloves, tuna and tacos. There is no food in the room. I realize that this is an aroma of the body odors of 30 people in a 140 degree room for the last 55 minutes. Seriously, enough with the asparagus, ok?

140 degrees and 130% humidity. Look, asshole, I need my space here so don’t get all pissy with me if I accidentally sprayed you with sweat as I flipped over. Seriously, is that where this relationship is going? Get over yourself. We need counseling and he needs to be medicated. Stat!

150 degrees and cloudy. And hot. I can no longer move my limbs on my own. I have given up on attempting any of the commands this Chinese chick is yelling out at us. I will lay sedentary until the aid unit arrives. I will buy this building and then have it destroyed.
I lose consciousness.

I have a headache and my husband is being a selfish ass. I can’t really breathe. All I can think about is holding a cup of hot sand in my mouth. I cannot remember what an ice cube is and cannot remember what snow looks like. I consider that my only escape might be a crab walk across 15 bodies and then out of the room. I am paralyzed, and may never walk again so the whole crab walk thing is pretty much out.

I cannot move at all and cannot reach my water. Is breathing voluntary or involuntary? If it’s voluntary, I am screwed. I stopped participating in the class 20 minutes ago. Hey, lady! I paid for this frickin class, ok?! You work for me! Stop yelling at everyone and just tell us a story or something. It’s like juice and cracker time, ok?

It is now 165 degrees and moisture is dripping from the ceiling. The towel that I am laying on is no longer providing any wicking or drying properties. It is actually placing additional sweat on me as I touch it. My towel reeks. I cannot identify the smell but no way can it be from me. Did someone spray some stank on my towel or something?

Torture session is over. I wish hateful things upon the instructor. She graciously allows us to stay and ‘cool down’ in the room. It is 175 degrees. Who cools down in 175 degrees? A Komodo Dragon? My husband has left the room. Probably to throw up.

My opportunity to escape has arrived. I roll over to my stomach and press up to my knees. It is warmer as I rise up from ground level - probably by 15 degrees. So let’s conservatively say it’s 190. I muster my final energy and slowly rise. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. Towards the door. Towards the door.

The temperature in the lobby is 72 degrees. Both nipples stiffen to diamond strength from the 100 degree temp swing. I can once again breathe though so I am pleased. I spot my future ex husband in the lobby. We had such a good thing going but I know that no measure of counseling will be able to unravel the day’s turmoil and mental scaring.

Arrive at Tropical Smoothie Cafe and proceed to order a 32 oz beverage. 402 calories, 0 fat and 14 grams of protein – effectively negating any caloric burn or benefit from the last 90 minutes. I finish it in 3 minutes and spend the next 30 min writing this memoir.


Found a bikram studio in Santa Fe so I went to my first bikram class in MONTHS today
It was killer, holy hell.

BUT it cured me of my horrible case of the “monday but really a Tuesday after a long weekend spent backpacking” grumpiness. So heyaaaaa them endorphins be good.
And them sunsets be better


2017-08-08 / Utolsó jóga

Voltak kétségeim, hogy tánc után már nem jó ötlet menni. Ráadásul nem sima bikram, hanem fusion volt a fél hatos óra, a nyolcasig pedig nem volt kedvem elütni az időt.

Végül a megelőző tánc miatt nagyon könnyeden, magammal szemben elnézően mentem be a teli terembe. Végül végig is csináltam az egész órát, mer há má mé hagyná ki gyakorlatot a némber ha ott van és végül is csak akkor kell beleadni mindent és utána tök jó lesz.

Igen, kurvajo volt utána.
Közben sem éreztem magam gyengének, (vettem a dmben előtte vitaminos szőlőcukrot amit mind megettem, ez biztos segített, mert amúgy nem nagyon ettem napközben) és nagyon jót tett a workshop okozta feszültségnek a testemben.

Rég éreztem ilyen olajozottnak magamat. Feldobott és önbizalmat adott egy kis ideig.