In the meantime, I go with the motto, "This much personality won't fit into a tiny body." Then I console myself with foot-long cheese coneys, cheese fries, and Dr. Pepper.
At different periods in my life, I have decided to get healthy, drink more water, exercise, and die anyway eat right. During one of those times, I got involved in kickboxing. I LOVED it. I liked everything about it... the loud thumping music, the crazy hard muscles I got in my body, the permission to hit things, the way I could visualize anyone's face I wanted to on the bag and beat the tar out of it. *sigh*
Let me say it again, I loved it.
Let me say it again, I loved it.
Now, I have a friend who I call Barbie. That's not her name and I would never call it to her face, but that's who she looks like. She's tall and thin with long blonde hair and big fake boobs. Her hubby looks a little like Ken; she has a son and a daughter; and they even live in a house resembling the Dream House. How can you NOT call her Barbie?
Well, one day, Barbie decided to join my kickboxing class. I was so pissed thrilled. Everyone wants someone with the seemingly perfect body working out beside them in an exercise class, so every roll you have is shown in stark contrast to their trim, lithe, beautifully tan body. Thankfully, Barbie wasn't enamored with the kickboxing class and left after a couple of months. She told me she had found something better. Yoga.
Now, I am all about stress-free living, stretching, and Yanni music, but when she asked me to join, I nearly choked. She explained that at the "studio" (really, a studio? I thought you made records in a studio or dancers danced in a studio or artists paint in a studio or Jay Leno filmed "The Tonight Show" in a studio, but anorexic people in unitards stretching to elevator music? A studio? Really???) she was attending, you could take one class, fill out a survey, and then sign up for the class at a reduced rate. She begged and pleaded for me to go. I tried everything I could to get out of it. I'm all about hitting things and rock music and sweating. I don't do Spandex and downward facing dog. Because she is my friend, because I am willing to try new things when hounded enough, I finally relented.
What a mistake.
I should have known when I walked into the "studio" this would never work. First there was the smell of incense before I even opened the door. Sweet, strong, cloying, and oh so 60s. Upon entering the "studio," I noticed the floor was painted deepest dark purple with the strangest gold swirls painted all over it. The walls and ceilings were black. I felt more relaxed already.
In the far corner was a huge water feature, going full blast, and I realized I needed to pee. The room was lit by rope lights around the top of the ceiling, candles, and a floor lamp. There were satin pillows in dark jewel-tone colors in another corner. I kept looking for Ali Babba and his forty thieves to come in behind me. Chimey Native American-type music was playing over the stereo. Yeah, this was gonna be right up my alley.
I found Barbie and proceeded to lay my towel down beside her yoga mat. I looked around at the other three people in the "studio." There was a man probably in his 80s who had to have weighed 115 lbs soaking wet and holding a 6 year old. He had on a white unitard. When I walked in, he was in a back bend and walking his upper body towards his lower body. Then he lifted one leg and slowly pointed his toe towards the ceiling. Obviously, it was his first class.
One of the other women in the class was German. She, too, was nothing but sinew and bones, clad in a black unitard. She was about 70. When I arrived, she was on the floor, lying on her stomach. Her body curled back on itself, the back of her head was almost touching her butt and the tips of her toes nearing her forehead. I so can do that too, so I wasn't that impressed.
The final participant, besides Barbie and me, was a young mom. She was closest to me in size and weight. Normal to "healthy." She sat cross-legged on her yoga mat, looking peaceful. I liked her already.
The leader came bouncing in. She was an Earth Mother type. Short, curly hair. Black unitard, and a long flowing crinkle skirt. She came into the room clapping her hands and waving sage. To get rid of bad chi, she said. I knew this was going to be fun.
The class began. We started slow, because of me, and it obviously disgruntled the older set because they kept frowning over at me. We went into a few poses and I thought I was doing okay. Apparently not, because my form was constantly being readjusted. After the 87 millionth readjustment, Earth Mother decided we would try something else. She had us all sit on the ground with knees to our chest. Easy so far. Then she had us put our weight on the back of our butts, balancing there with our feet off the ground. (I'm sure she had a more yoga-ish name for it.) Then, we were supposed to rock.
Dude, I totally rocked this pose. Seriously. Barbie couldn't get it. She kept slamming forward. Old Guy couldn't get it. German Lady kept trying and would hold for a second and then drop it. Young Mom almost had me, but she couldn't get it for more than 5 or 10 seconds. I could have sat that way the rest of the class. Earth Mother noticed my yoga prowess and came over clapping her hands and jumping up and down, extolling the wonders of my "form."
"Look at her! Look! Her form is perfect! Look at her legs! Look at her back! Perfection!" Then she made everyone in the class come over to look while I stayed in position, rocking slightly.
Old Guy was not loving me at that moment.
Earth Mom asked me how I had learned to do this pose so quickly. Now, I have a big booty. Always have, always will. I also have a quick wit and don't always think before I speak, so I said, "Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down!"
Now in case, you don't remember a weeble from the 70s, here's what it looks like.
In the far corner was a huge water feature, going full blast, and I realized I needed to pee. The room was lit by rope lights around the top of the ceiling, candles, and a floor lamp. There were satin pillows in dark jewel-tone colors in another corner. I kept looking for Ali Babba and his forty thieves to come in behind me. Chimey Native American-type music was playing over the stereo. Yeah, this was gonna be right up my alley.
I found Barbie and proceeded to lay my towel down beside her yoga mat. I looked around at the other three people in the "studio." There was a man probably in his 80s who had to have weighed 115 lbs soaking wet and holding a 6 year old. He had on a white unitard. When I walked in, he was in a back bend and walking his upper body towards his lower body. Then he lifted one leg and slowly pointed his toe towards the ceiling. Obviously, it was his first class.
One of the other women in the class was German. She, too, was nothing but sinew and bones, clad in a black unitard. She was about 70. When I arrived, she was on the floor, lying on her stomach. Her body curled back on itself, the back of her head was almost touching her butt and the tips of her toes nearing her forehead. I so can do that too, so I wasn't that impressed.
The final participant, besides Barbie and me, was a young mom. She was closest to me in size and weight. Normal to "healthy." She sat cross-legged on her yoga mat, looking peaceful. I liked her already.
The leader came bouncing in. She was an Earth Mother type. Short, curly hair. Black unitard, and a long flowing crinkle skirt. She came into the room clapping her hands and waving sage. To get rid of bad chi, she said. I knew this was going to be fun.
The class began. We started slow, because of me, and it obviously disgruntled the older set because they kept frowning over at me. We went into a few poses and I thought I was doing okay. Apparently not, because my form was constantly being readjusted. After the 87 millionth readjustment, Earth Mother decided we would try something else. She had us all sit on the ground with knees to our chest. Easy so far. Then she had us put our weight on the back of our butts, balancing there with our feet off the ground. (I'm sure she had a more yoga-ish name for it.) Then, we were supposed to rock.
Dude, I totally rocked this pose. Seriously. Barbie couldn't get it. She kept slamming forward. Old Guy couldn't get it. German Lady kept trying and would hold for a second and then drop it. Young Mom almost had me, but she couldn't get it for more than 5 or 10 seconds. I could have sat that way the rest of the class. Earth Mother noticed my yoga prowess and came over clapping her hands and jumping up and down, extolling the wonders of my "form."
"Look at her! Look! Her form is perfect! Look at her legs! Look at her back! Perfection!" Then she made everyone in the class come over to look while I stayed in position, rocking slightly.
Old Guy was not loving me at that moment.
Earth Mom asked me how I had learned to do this pose so quickly. Now, I have a big booty. Always have, always will. I also have a quick wit and don't always think before I speak, so I said, "Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down!"
Now in case, you don't remember a weeble from the 70s, here's what it looks like.
I loved them because they never fell over. Never. They could rock all day and not fall over. See where I'm going with this?There was this sudden collective gasp from the room. Earth Mom frowned at me severely and chastised me for bringing negative energy into our "positive space." She said that I had "upset the chi of the room." German Lady had her hand to her mouth, aghast. Old Guy lowered his eyebrows at me. Barbie looked away embarrassed. New Mom gave me a shy smile. Ummm.. okay. Did I just club a baby seal that only they could see? Had a crimson A sprouted on my tshirt? Seriously? Make a joke and get burned at the stake? Geez......
Upon Earth Mother's proclamation, everyone went back to their spots and a new position was quickly chosen. Every now and then Earth Mom or German Lady would give me the evil eye. The magic for me was gone.
After class when I went to fill out my survey, Earth Mom took me to the side and said she felt it would be best if I didn't sign up for the class. I was too disruptive and my negativity would taint the group. Me?? Negative??? Never. Sarcastic? Maybe. Self-deprecating? Always. Negative? Okay, sometimes, but I didn't think I was then. I was trying to be funny, and a group that couldn't see the humor in that RIDICULOUS "pose" was not a group I wanted to be a part of. I quickly agreed that maybe yoga wasn't the best choice for me.
I've never gone back. Can't say I miss it. Unitards? Not for me. Elevator music? Not so much. Besides I can do the weeble pose anytime I like.
I think I have too much personality to fit into a unitard anyway. Yeah, too much personality... let's go with that.
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