Something New

When you're in the changeroom at the yoga studio, it's generally pretty easy to tell the hot yoga girls from the hatha yoga girls. The hot yoga girls, well, they're much shinier, what with all all the perspiring, and they tend to be wearing thongs and that's it. Us hatha yoga girls tend to be matte, we tend to put our shorts on under our skirts, and we wear bigger underwear.

Against my better judgement, I am trying hot yoga this afternoon. Better judgement is perhaps too harsh. I just have some reservations. Heat makes me frustrated. Not being able to do things well can make me frustrated. So we'll see.

It's labour intensive too. Last night, I got packed for today. Eric was over, watching me from bed as I puttered around. "Towel. I need to pack a towel. Hot yoga is hot." He's been telling me stories involving pools of sweat and dripping. I pulled my linen bin out from under the bed. Grabbed a towel and tossed it on the bed.

"You'll need three towels," Eric said.

Because there's apparently more sweating than I was imagining. So the fact that I've got tiny scraps of fabric standing in for clothing is somehow balanced by the fact that I have yards of terry cloth.

And I forgot my water bottle, because I have never *needed* a water bottle for yoga before.

Of course, no one is making me do this. I decided that I wanted to try something new, that I wanted to push myself a little more. I love Jamine's classes, but I've gotten used to the routine, and find that I disengage without realizing it. I also spent the first half of the last class either crying or trying not to cry because I missed Shelley. Now, if I were a more disciplined person, or maybe differently disciplined, I could still be pushing myself in the beginner classes and I could maybe stop attaching to the feeling that Shelley is supposed to be there. But I'm not that person, so instead I'm gonna drag my ass to a hot room and sweat it up with the hot yoga girls.

I'll let you know if my underwear shrinks.