Friday, June 3, 2011

an exercise defeat

Last night I went to Stroga for the 7pm yoga class. It was called "Heated Vinyasa" but I'd done those before, so I figured it would be fine.

And then I left after 20 minutes.

TWENTY MINUTES. What kind of yoga wimp am I?! I'll tell you what kind: the kind that had already sweat through her shirt, and was more focused on kicking the instructor via 3-legged-dog pose than on elongating her spine.

Unrelated: WHY do athletic shirts show every drop of sweat? Isn't that the point of those things? To hide the sweat? I already sweat a lot when I work out, and it's not exactly attractive. If I'm paying a premium for specifically-created athletic apparel, that ish better make it look like I'm not struggling. Because my face is saying the opposite. Loudly.

I felt OK about leaving because we're still doing Insanity (oh my gawd it never ends...) and the other day I put on shorts and didn't hate my legs in shorts for the first time in...ever. Well, if "ever" means "as long as I've noticed my legs." So 16 years. Which is kiiiiind of a big deal, I think.

Unfortunately, my athletic prowess is diminished significantly by the fact that I am a SPAZ and have a billion bruises on my legs. The Foliage says this is not a big deal, but The Foliage is wrong. I feel trashy walking around with visible, blue and purple, splotchy wounds. Also: visible bra straps. I hate. Unless the wearer is stick thin, then it can be fashiony. That is beside the point.

The point is that yoga is harder than I remembered, and instead of finishing the class I ate an oatmeal cookie during my walk to the train. THE END.


Leah said...


Bruises - so not alone!
Techy told me I needed to go to the dr because he was just sure I was a hemopheliac. I said there's no way I am paying a $30 co-pay to have my doctor tell me I'm ultra megazoid clumsy. At least TreeMan doesn't mind. Cause Techyton totally does!

ceejus said...

It might be better if we were in your position. I tell him all the time (read: when I "hate my outfit" or "can't get my hair to cooperate") that him telling me I look great doesn't matter at all. If I don't think I look great, then that's that. I mean, if I already think I look great and then he says something to the same effect, PA POW awesomesauce! But otherwise his compliments fall on deaf, pissed off ears.

Jennierose said...

I'm with you on the bruises. Also, since I got my bike I keep getting oil stains on my right calf that won't come off. Not very attractive.

ceejus said...

You gotta get orange scrub for oil stains. That's what I use after working on cars. You can get it at the hardware store. Oil is no match for that ish. Also it leaves your skin so soooooooft.