In an effort to get myself back into shape, just in case Luke Bryan asks me to shake it for him at the end of the month, I have been really throwing myself into fitness. I started up with my normal favorite, a good long walk/jog/run, but after nearly jumping into traffic every time someone screamed out their window or tried to run past me I decided it was time for a new approach.
So I signed up for a Hot Yoga month long Groupon deal with two friends.
Then, on another whim as the unusual PNW heat is affecting my rationale, I agreed to go take a class the day we purchased our tickets to pain.
I usually nanny on Monday’s so the whole ordeal had to fit in around those shenanigans. I had made sure I had a yoga mat but wanted to go check out some yoga towels as well. To Target the girls and I went, giggling all the way. Little miss pigtails, the younger of the two girls I nanny, walked straight up to the sports bras and asked me if I needed a new pair of breasts.
I could have died laughing.
I put her in bows and pigtails every chance I get. You’re only 3 once!
Seeing that I thought it was funny, she then continued to point to every bra possible saying things like pink breasts, blue breasts, new breasts, new breasts. It was far too funny to be embarrassed by.
I ended up getting a ‘high impact sports bra,’ which basically means that your twins are large in far more in charge than you are.
See what I mean?
I also found my new favorite workout tank at Target the ‘fit and flare,’ which does all the right things for my not so hot bod.
Turns out yoga towels start at $30 and go up to $40, which meant that I was going to have to use my plain old strawberry emblazoned beach towel. Sue me actual yogis.
So off to the class I went. Except I was totally scared and felt like I may actually throw up at any moment. In fact I really wanted to run. I pretty much would have done anything to get out of that class at that moment. Something about yoga terrifies me beyond belief. 10 mile run? Sure I can do that if I have a good, long playlist and a fuel belt along for the fun. But an hour yoga class makes me want to sprint out the door in a fit. Yikes.
101 degrees, way too much humidity and an hour of ‘fusion’ yoga later and I was proud. I had conquered something that I was so terrified of. I may not become a professional, midriff baring, health nut yogi, but at least I can say I did it and I enjoyed it.
The only draw back is that my workout gear has been laying out all night and it is still not dry.