Yoga, Subsequent Rigamortis, & Embarassing Impoverished Students

Part of my New Year's resolution is to be somewhat healthier. I'm going to yoga. Okay, that might be partly a lie, I started going to yoga because my roommate had something of an intervention. Apparently, once you start adhering to the couch, you've been on it too long and it isn't terribly good for you. She thought yoga might be a good, low stress way to ease me back into the land of the living.

So yoga. It's actually more fun than I gave it credit for. My roommate gets all the credit for this, and did a good job and found a great place where the instructors are fun and nice and you leave with amazing super powers of flexibility- oh and when you get up in the morning have rigamortis and feel like you got run over by a street cleaner. Anyway, the only downside is that this whole new addiction/habit/thing is expensive. It has a negative effect on my wallet. And believe you me, the wallet is already thin.

We had to make a decision. We decided that while we love our yoga place, we should shop around and see if there were other good places that had more impoverished-student-friendly prices.

Enter Bikram yoga. Okay, so heated yoga never seemed like a terribly good idea in the first place- like 90 - 97 degrees sounded mildly horrendous. But after awhile, turned out to be awesome. Can 105 REALLY be THAT different? My logic, accumulated from conducting fieldwork in arid/tropical countries, said that well, after 95 it's about all the same anyway. I'm going to have to say that after closer investigation, I've discovered that my logic was crap because 10 degrees made a huge difference. Additionally, having a drill seargent as an instructor of a peaceful, meditative exercise wasn't fabulous.

She stood at the front of the room with a head piece like an aerobics instructor- I think that sing song in her voice was supposed to make us feel more crunchy granola and like she was guru-ish. Instead it just made it creepy when she yelled.

"Put the water down! We're not drinking water yet! You can have in after the 3rd set when I say you can!"

Oh yeah, absolutely, it's like hotter here than it ever gets in New England, and I'm dying, but sure, why not. I'll dehydrate. Bring it on.

My personal favorite:

"I was telling you to fix that if you could hear me- but you probably weren't even listening were you?"
"um... no, I could hear you..."
"...You could? So then you just chose to ignore me? Wow, unbelievable, why are you even paying me? Kids these days, don't even know what's going on in their heads."

So in relative terms I'm a kid, but I'm past the age of 18 now, and I'm pretty sure that once you can legally buy drinks for yourself, that people should no longer yell at you they way they would when correcting kindergardeners for stealing crayons from one another.

Showtune Lyric: "Master of the house, dolin' out the charm, ready with a handshake and an open palm."