Dance class tonight

Last night I went to my first yoga class in about four years. I used to go every Monday and Thursday, and most Saturday mornings. The teacher was wonderful. He was calm, and didn't play stupid enya music or crickets chirping or anything like that. He kept the lights dim, and walked around checking and adjusting all the time.

I actually got so into it that I cried a couple times at the end of the hour and a half. I really loved it, and it made me feel physically strong. I believe it also helped me out of my depression (along with the chemicals my doctor prescribed).

Anyway, two things contributed to my lack of yoga practice; first, the instructor left for his own studio (one which I couldn't afford) and second, Charlie-boy came to live with me. I was gone all day at work, and couldn't see going out again at night for another chunk of time away from the little guy. I know, I know, but that's how it happened.

I stopped going to the gym all together, and the only exercise I got was from the walks my canine pal and I went on together.

But.

As you all know, I'm getting serious about this getting in shape business. I've put down a wad of cash for a trainer, I'm writing down every single thing that goes into my mouth (and stop with the innuendo... my tongue isn't tickling anything more interesting than a root beer-flavored Popsicle these days), and I'm trying to get in an hour of cardio five days a week.

Last night I went to a "flow yoga" class at my gym.

This morning I woke up in pain.

See, this class was not like my old class. For one, most of the time we were supposed to keep our eyes closed, and get in tune with our bodies. However, since I couldn't tell what we were doing, I had to keep looking at the teacher. The times we didn't have our eyes closed, we were looking down, or up or at our knees. The leader obviously knew her stuff, but on the instructing part? Not so good. Meanwhile, the florescent lights were blinding all of us, and the monrovian chant music with whale sounds (or whatever the hell she was playing) just distracted me.

No checking, no adjustments. Surprisingly, I'm pretty damn flexible, but the things she had us doing were insane. Not one of the people in the class could keep up with her.

It wasn't like she was showing off, it was more like she was just totally unaware of the group of us. Perhaps it's just not for me?

So this morning? Because I'm not in enough pain? I went and got my eyebrows and bikini line waxed. Not that I have a bikini for there to be a line, but you know what I mean. I actually had to tell her to stop from taking too much off. I may be old school, but that hair is there for a reason, thank you very much. No, I don't want it to look like a tarantula is coming out of my underwear, but please. I'm a woman, not a pre-pubescent girl.