Bikram Yoga for the Already Sweaty

As I've mentioned previously on this here blog, I am a sweaty person. So probably the last thing I needed was to sign up for an exercise class that makes even normal people perspire freely. And yet, I decided to try the Bikram yoga that all the kids are doing, because I am a glutton for punishment.

Bikram, in case you don't know, is yoga for the criminally insane. You spend an hour and a half doing contortions in a 100-degree room, sweating and feeling like you're going to throw up. The room smells like balls, armpits, and feet. When you leave, you feel elated, mostly because you don't feel like you're going to vomit anymore, which is always nicer than feeling like you're going to vomit. (I think we can all agree to this.)

Today was my first class. I loved it, needless to say, and am going back tomorrow. My goal is to not have to spend 15 minutes of the class crouched on my mat, staring at my spread hands like an animal and trying not to barf.

Re: like an animal ... the instructor, who was very nice, let me sit and look green for as long as I needed to, but he did tell me to try to breathe through my nose. Apparently, if you breath through your mouth, your thoughts get scattered, like an animal, etc. and so on. No worries there. Thoughts already scattered, pal! Arf!

Why I Hate Exercise

I was in the locker room at the gym just now, putting away my clothes, when a woman came over and opened one of the lockers in the upper bank next to me. The door promptly fell off its hinge, nearly squashing her.

"See that?" I said. "Exercise is bad for you."

"Actually, if I hadn't been working out so much, it would have fallen on me," she said. And then she applied stupid little weight-lifting gloves to her stupid little paws and toodled out into the gym in a high odor of sanctity.

This is my problem with exercise, and it's the same one I have with the Grateful Dead and Jesus: I can't stand the fans.

The Hottness, Part 437

Jennie Smash: a weird thing is happening with my weight loss

Jennie Smash: i'm DEFLATING

Mads: what does that mean?

Mads: that sounds very scary

Jennie Smash: like, my butt has a dent in it

Mads: a dimple?

Jennie Smash: between the butt part and the leg part

Jennie Smash: where none was before

Jennie Smash: i think it's a muscle, but i can't be sure

Mads: ha

Jennie Smash: anything is possible

Success, I Suppose

Me: I just realized something.

Mads: What?

Me: My underpants are too big.

Mads: Woo! That's how you know you've lost weight.

Me: But ... in my underpants?

I'm confused.

The New Hottness on Ice

I went ice skating tonight for the first time in ... uh, I dunno how long. I think the last time I went, I had to stick a pillow in the butt of my snowpants to protect my tailbone. In fact, I should still do that, but now I am vain. Anyway, it's been awhile.

I bought myself ice skates because I decided that I want to start getting some exercise outdoors. A day after they arrived, it became unseasonably warm in NYC, which seems like it would be a problem, but actually isn't: The ice only melts a little in the outdoor rinks, for whatever scary chemical reason, and you can skate in a sweater and feel very sportive indeed.

I skated for an hour at Bryant Park tonight and every muscle in my body hurts. That was unexpected. I remembered that my ankles would hurt. My shoulders were a surprise though. I think it's because I wave my arms around in a protective manner. Also, my voice is hoarse from yelling, "Watch out! Ahhh! Be careful!" Etc.

One thing that hasn't changed: Creepy dudes still hang out at the rink trying to pick up girls. One guy tried to talk to me THREE TIMES. The third time, he said, "I don't know what I'm doing right, but I've lapped you!"

Ew. I know. I can't even.

Anyway, here's a tip if you do go skating this winter: Steer clear of the people with wet asses. They have fallen down and will do so again, most likely once they're right in front of you.

You're welcome.

Diets I Will Not Be Doing

So, have you heard of this Master Cleanse shiz? The "shiz" is literal, turns out, cuz if you do the Cleanse, your day starts out by drinking enough salt water to make poop come shooting out yer heinie like a geiser.

OK, maybe that's an exaggeration. Howsomever, you do a salt water "flush" thingie as part of this diet, and that just seems like a terrible idea to me. I mean, don't they tell sailors who are lost at sea to drink their own pee before they drink salt water? Would they do that just to be mean? I don't think so. Drinking salt water is bad for you, y'all.

I'm a bit chunky-trunks right now, but I'm thinking about just eating some fruit or something. And then, maybe I'll get crazy and go for a walk.

Maybe I Have Been Eating Just a Touch More...

I was just at the bodega across the street, buying some junkfood and I swear the woman behind the counter was judging me.

Who Doesn't Love a Good Story About the Gym?

I am paralyzed. I am thisclose to typing this entry with a pen held in my teeth, because my arms are so sore. Today, I allowed some freakish person who probably wore spandex in his crib to yell at me like a drill sargent while I tried to convince my jello legs to rotate some pedals.

It is clear that I am not cut out for physical fitness.

However, summer is here and your pal has not been so diligent about the exercises, so I'm trying to play catch up. This, of course, never works. However, it will not stop me, because I am a good American, and I believe that I can always turn any problem around, given enough money.