It was the week before finals and I couldn’t have told you the last time I was in a gym, so instead of studying I did anything I could to procrastinate. I saw an ad for hot yoga and thought I could totally do that. It’s not like I’ve only ever done yoga one time in my entire life. So I texted my little and told her to sign up because I was not going to endure this alone.
Obviously if I was going to do this, I was going to be prepared. Because I didn’t want to make a fool of myself, I read all the info about what you’re supposed to do before you come to hot yoga- like drink a lot of water and not eat a huge meal. So after scanning the pre-yoga page for about 30 seconds, I decided I was basically a yogi and was ready to get my stretch on.
Flash forward two days when I’m pulling up to the yoga studio with little by my side. I’m wearing lululemon and I have a smart water, so I am obviously very prepared. We get into the lobby and are greeted by this naturally gorgeous middle-aged woman with 10% body fat. She sets us up with our yoga mats and this microfiber towel that you lay over the mat so that you don’t slip in your own sweat. Okay.
We head on into the studio which is a toasty 98 degrees. I’ve spent twenty summers in Texas heat, so this will be totally fine. We set up our mats and start making small talk with another middle-aged women who had the bone structure of Scarlet Johansson and boobs that defied gravity. Eventually, the instructor saunters into the room to start class and turns up the heat. Okay, yeah cool.
Commence yoga.
A little bit of deep breathing and some tree pose and I am doing peachy. I’m working up a good sweat and we start to progress into some more advanced poses. I’m not sure if it was the combination of a very swift vertical change from downward dog to warrior II with the 100 degree room or the fact that I hadn’t eaten anything in eight hours, but I was going down.
You know when you have the realization that you’re about to embarrass yourself? Well I did. My mouth got all sticky and hot, and I started to see spots. I felt my heart beating in my ears as I slowly tried to crumple into child’s pose and save myself a little dignity. I came to about five seconds later and looked up to realize that no one even noticed that I was dying on the floor. Dope. I pulled myself up by my bootstraps into a flawless chatarunga and finished the class confidently.
Ha, I wish.
I tried to keep my cool for the rest of class but unfortunately that wasn’t going to happen. We were about forty minutes in when I felt it happening again, but this time it was my stomach. Yep, I literally threw up in my mouth. I looked over wide-eyed at my little with my mouth full of that morning’s chocolate odwalla. She looked at me with a realization of the current situation and then mouthed a subtle “holy shit” followed by “swallow it.” And in the style of Seth Rogan, I “swallowed it like a girl.”
I survived the class barely, but of course told all of my sisters about what a great workout it was and that it really wasn’t that bad.
Namasté hot yoga. See you never..
Nice Move200
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