Namaste.

7 years ago I would have never imagined myself spending 90 minutes in a 120 degree room in search of a workout.  Thanks to my sister in law for being the kind of person who would want to do something like this for a bachelorette activity, I discovered although Bikram yoga was just as awful as it sounds, it could potentially cure me of my hot flashes so I continued on.  

Personally – I feel like there have to be some issues with a workout that has more warnings in the beginning of the class than apparent benefits. Teachers casually mention that yogis might pass out, feel dizzy, nauseated, light headed, and become short of breath in the same sentence that they tell you to lengthen your spine.  And that frightens me slightly, but then they mention things like that I am a “flower petal blooming”  and that I am there to “fall more in love with myself” and that I am replenishing my body and soul and I feel pretty much incredible. Plus they convinced me with all the heat and bending I could release some what can seem like unbearable amounts of stress I feel on a daily basis and I was cautiously optimistic. 

So for the past few weeks I have been going on the semi regular and it isn’t that bad. I am not so sure about how much my chackras are aligning, but I do feel like that sweating out approximarely 2 gallons of water  has to be somewhat cleansing right? Until I arrived tonight and someone was being carried out on a stretcher  and I realized that Bikram yoga is beyond my threshold of weird.  Anyone that likes stretching and balance in 120 degrees, while drinking the sweat of 45 strangers is a whole new level of crazy I can’t even begin to comprehend. People get carried out on strechers and nobody blinks an eye! Some chick was muttering in the corner to herself repeatedly about toxins! It smells like rotten foot! I am going another 5 days until my trial membership expires in the hopes that my face thins out a little bit for photos, but that’s about it. Later yogis.  I need cooler temps and better aromas. 

My so-called senile life.

On a recent Friday night as I was folding my laundry I went to tune into my nightly episode of Frasier on the Hallmark channel and was dismayed to discover said channel, was “out of order”. In a fit of rage I grabbed my phone to call Time Warner, when it dawned on me that I was spending my Friday night folding laundry and watching Frasier. Or not watching as the case may be. Then I further realized I am actually a 98-year-old woman trapped in a 28-year-old body and I began to hyperventilate. But then decided to write this top 10 list explaining my elderly nature.

1. I love lace.
2. I also love aprons.
3. Teapots are also a favorite.
4. My affinity for Frasier is equivalent to my love of Golden Girls. 
5. I can’t stay awake past 11:30 on most nights.
6. I often find myself referring to kids these days, not in a bad way, but in an “I’m completely clueless about what’s cool way.”
7. I am deaf enough that I am constantly shouting, but also get mildly offended by how loud music is in restaurants.
8. Every day I grow a little more comfortable with the idea of multiple cats.
9. I have an unnatural love for BINGO.
10. I can’t remember the last item on the list.

So that it’s I am getting BJ a brother and a Life Alert ASAP. If you need me I’ll be finding a way to crochet seashells onto doilies. OR alternatively amping up my street cred with tats and aggressive nail art, I am undecided. I’ll keep you abreast of the situation.