Hide The Mess

maybe I'm just not that kind of person

Sigh. I got up early this morning and put in the pre-natal yoga DVD that I have and ... maybe I'm just not the kind of person who can do work out DVD's at home. It has nothing to do with the DVD, it's actually very cool and I like that she has three different women in the various trimesters going through the poses with modifications and I also love that she has an entire video of Shorts - 15, 30, or 45 min. yoga sessions. BUT I just can not get into it at home. I think I need a mirrored studio so I can see what I'm doing. I used to practice at home all the time, but mainly sitting in front of the TV getting into various poses and holding them for long periods of time. Class is different from the way I have practiced at home in the past and I know everyone thinks I'm so disciplined because I work out at the butt crack of dawn but I'm not disciplined all the time and not when it comes to this. I get part way through the session and bail out. WTF? Is it that there is no external motivator, such as a classroom full of people and instructor?  I don't know, but I don't like that I keep trying the DVD and giving up midway through. I don't like to think of myself as a quitter, but maybe I kinda am. Which does not bode well for the impending labor and delivery.

Front of the class

A couple of weeks ago in Yoga class the teacher wanted us to get into a pose that he couldn't demonstrate, and I watched him look around and then his eyes locked on mine and he said "Do you know how to do Dancer Pose?" and I just shrugged my shoulders and said I'm not sure because in that moment I didn't know what Standing Up Straight Like A Normal Person Pose was, much less Dancer Pose. He looked around like he was going to torture, I mean, ask someone else … and then he looked at me again and said "Come on up here anyway, I need someone to demonstrate." So I did. Then went into a Dissociative Fugue.

pointed out

In Yoga class tonight, standing on one leg, I'm just trying to extend my other leg out but I can ony get so far without losing my balance, so I just hold that pose instead and then I hear the Yoga teacher say:

"You can also choose to modify, like the girl in the blue shirt back there."

Girl in the blue shirt? Ah fuck. That's ME.  I look up and they're all looking at me. Awesome. It's a miracle I didn't lose my balance and fall flat on my face.

Awesome

We had a sub in yoga class on Sunday – a 6 ft. 2 in. heavy set Asian dude – tee hee. That totally makes me giggle. And that guy was awesome – he has you hold poses for a long time, which is something I look for in a teacher. Plus - he can totally do the splits! Seriously. He was awesome. I think I'm going to start taking his class too.
Added bonus: I like saying my yoga teacher is a 6ft. 2in. heavy set Asian dude. [and by the way, that's how HE referred to himself so I'm not being all politically incorrect so get your panties out of a wad]

Sew, a needle pulling thread

For months I've wanted to make a bag to carry my yoga mat around in and tonight I finally did it! I got out my mom’s old sewing machine, grabbed a skirt that was headed for the trash bin because the fabric was torn and dismantled the skirt – which was way harder than I thought it would be. Ripping out each seam, taking off the zipper real careful like because I didn’t want to mess up the fabric - that took almost as long as actually sewing the bag together.  And honesty, the process of ripping out the seams was kind of therapeutic. When I finished  I was left only with the fabric - what was once a skirt was now just a big heap of possibilities. 
Sewing normally requires some rudimentary math skills – which I do not have and since I hate math so much it makes my eyes bleed I decided that I wasn’t going to measure a damn thing. And when I HAD to do some form of measuring and calculating, I simply employed the very complicated measuring technique known as Eyeballing It. (hee – balling – dirty!) Seriously. I just guesstimated on the whole thing and I must say now that it's finished – I love it. Even though it looks like an eighth grade girls Home Ec. project, and lets face it, I'm totally an eighth grade girl masquerading as an adult.

Dork Fish

Last Night. Before Yoga class.

Tina:    So, have you been to this Yoga class before?

Random Lady:    Yes

Tina:    Is it good?

Random Lady:    Uhhh … yeah …

Tina:    (Smacking myself on the forehead. Literally.) No, it sucks,  that’s why you come to this class. (Rolling my eyes at myself) Duh. What a dumb question.  I’m sorry.

Random Lady:    (Laughing uncomfortably and trying to GET AWAY FROM ME) No, no, you’re fine, it wasn’t dumb.

And then she ran away from me to the other side of the room. My attempts at casual, spontaneous conversation with random strangers seems to work as some kind of  REPELLENT. Alllriiiiigghhtt. SCORE.

I half way expected that Bill Engvall  comedian dude to pop his head in the room all “Here’s your sign”  because … “Is it good?”  …  yeah, it’s just THAT STUPID. And dude, I don’t care what you say, I love that Bill Engvall guy. Hearing him always reminds me of my friend Elizabeth  from college (the blonde in that picture is Elizabeth, the other chick ... that's me. With unfortunate lipstick. And hair. And clothes ... just all of it is unfortunate actually.) and how one night  we were watching him, I think it was on like Vh1 Stand Up Spotlight …? Is that what it was called? Back before Rosie O’Donnell was an out of the closet, in your face lesbian (not that there is anything wrong with that!)  and just sort of this funny lady with a VERY UNFORTUNATE curly haired mullet. Anyway, we were watching him one night and at some point in his act he says “I’m a dork fish.”  and I swear to God to this day I could call Elizabeth, who I haven’t seen in almost 15 years, and say “I’m a dork fish” and she would IMMEDIATELY know who I was and proceed to laugh like a damn hyena. I have no idea what the rest of the joke was, or if it was even part of a joke, but we could not stop it with the “I’m a dork fish” shtick. Oh and by the way, we were sober. Think about that.

I Did Not Know That Stuff Had An Expiration Date

I told myself that I would go to a yoga class every day this week. I have all the classes on my calendar with little reminders set and everything. But I don't think I am going to be able to keep that commitment to myself. I went to class last night, still sore from Sundays class, and Oh My God. My freakin hamstrings HATE ME even more today than they did yesterday. I don't know if I'm going to make it tonight. The gym I went to last night is one I haven't been to before, but since 24 Hour Fitness charges me OUT THE ASS for my all club gym membership I decided I'm going to try EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEIR DAMN CLUBS, just to get my money's worth, and this gym is actually not far from my office, in the Addison area and if you're familiar with Dallas you know where that is and holy shit, I really do not fit in there. Like, at all. I'm way too white trash with my Target Where The Wild Things Are t-shirt for that place. Or maybe that's just the after work crowd and if I went to my regular gym I'd discover the same thing, which is why I don't go after work anymore, because of all the beautiful people putting on a fashion show AT THE GYM, preening at themselves in the mirror when it's all I can do to AVOID looking at my own reflection because holy CHRIST I'm getting old or I've decided that carrying luggage on my face is a good look. And IT IS NOT. I had some time to kill before class so I got on one of the bikes, which put me directly in front of a mirror, and if I could have found another machine, ANY MACHINE that was not occupied and did not put me in front of that mirror, I would have but I was stuck with the bike in front of the mirror where I could either look at the chick next to me: skinny, boobs that GOD DID NOT GIVE HER,  blonde, pretty, hair perfect, make up perfect ... FOR WORKING OUT ... vomit. Twice. And jealous.  Whatever. Or I could look at my own reflection and Jeeesssssuuussss I look TIRED. And I'm not being all self deprecating. I honest to God have bags under my eyes. I think it's time for some Preparation H. That's right. FOR MY FACE and do not JUDGE ME. I've heard supermodels do it. Of course, they also do a little coke now and again, but that is neither here nor there. I'm just talking about a little hemorrhoid cream, which I've tried before, on my face, and it works! Shut up. You do not know what women will do sometimes, not trying to be beautiful, just trying not to LOOK LIKE A FRIGGIN HAG. And I swear to GOD The BFF and I just had this conversation Friday night:

The BFF: Preparation H has an expiration date.

Tina: It does? Really? Are you sure?

The BFF: Oh, I'm sure. Tina: Huh. Let me see ... I don't see a date on here, but I don't have my glasses on.

The BFF: On the seam, right there. Uhh, yeah, this is expired. 02/2002

Tina: Damn. So what happens if I use it anyway?

The BFF: Nothing. And not in a good way.

Tina: Ohhhhhhhhhh. No bueno.

The BFF: Right. No bueno.

So, THAT'S on my list of things to buy RIGHT AWAY.  Because I do not like all this luggage on my face.   

In A Flash It Takes Hold Of My Heart

It figures that I find a Yoga class & instructor that I like and she has to go and leave for six weeks. WTF? What is this Opera Performance nonsense? Does she have, like, a life? One that’s multi-dimensional? How did THAT happen? Fine! Groovy Yoga teacher, go … live your damn passions and leave me with this SUBSTITUE FROM HELL. Ok, not really from hell. She didn’t have horns or anything. But dude, she is wearing leg warmers. How very Flashdance! I’m so waiting for Irene Cara to queue up on the CD player. I freakin' love that song. Anyway, not only do we have the legwarmers but when she turns around to face the class … people! her nipples are CLEARLY VISIBLE through her wife beater tank top. I look at The BFF and just rolled my eyes. Clearly, I’m going to have to find another yoga class. Not just because I’m being assaulted visually by her nipples, which, did I mention you can CLEARLY SEE? But also because she begins by telling us we may have heard her on the radio, she’s a relationship expert (which is how she referred to herself), she teaches a lot of classes in the Dallas area and she has a book coming out! Oy vey. I rolled my eyes AGAIN because the self promotion in my 24 Hour Fitness yoga class was OFF PUTTING. Do you know how difficult it can be to stay in a yoga class where you’re supposed to all peaceful and calm but you’re assaulted with nipples and gross self promotion by the instructor who refers to herself not only as a ‘relationship expert’ but says we might also know her as the Six Foot Blonde . Oh yeah, I’m going to LOVE HER, if the new meaning of the word love is: CONTEMPT.
Sigh. I’ve been so good about going to Yoga every week. Even when I didn’t feel like going, or when The BFF couldn’t go and I ended up going by myself… I still went. And now this? This gigantic, over enthusiastic, six foot blonde woman who is making us do Ab exercises for the first 15 minutes of class and WHAT THE HELL!? And she keeps saying things like if we don’t enjoy the format of her class, well, let it go. She’s an artist and rarely does the same format twice, and asks us to use our yoga minds to be open to the experience and oh fuck her … DAMN IT … now I like her because she’s talking about things that DIRECTLY apply to me and it’s annoying but at the same time all are things I need to hear which … ugh. Not sure I care for the messenger, but love the message … which means I’ll probably go back to this damn class because she does some pretty righteous shit. I didn’t like all of it, there were times I pulled out of the pose and waited, but the way she ended class RULED and you know what? Those leg warmers were very retro. Maybe I’ll see if I can find mine. They are hot pink. With a matching headband. Ohhh, that’s going to be a hot look, don’t you think?

Pain In My Ass

I went to a Yoga class for the first time in months yesterday. And ohhh man … my ass (literally, my ass) is killing me. I practice at home all of the time, but only the poses I can do really well. In a classroom setting, I don’t have the option to just do the ones that come easy for me. And of course in yesterdays class the instructor says “we’re going to do a series of balancing poses.” Great. I SUCK at those. Because I am by nature, imbalanced, in every way possible. So the balancing poses are like my Achilles heel and left to my own devices, if something is challenging … I’ll usually just quit. Because I’m a big ole quitter. But a classroom full of people forces me to try, and just do the best I can, which is sometimes, no, a lot of times, really shitty and is the exact OPPOSITE of my motto: If you can’t do it perfectly, don’t do it at all, because what’s the point in that? I realize that’s some fucked up thinking right there, trust me, it has been discussed … ad nauseum … about various other things in my life, it’s just surprising that it shows up in Yoga of all places. Where there is no such thing as doing it perfectly.