I thought I was a goner today.
I tried this new hipster craze of hot yoga and I thought I was going to be taken out by the heat. I walked in with a sparkle in my eye and determination in my heart but quickly had both of those ripped from my soul.
The class lined up on our yoga mats in front of a row of mirrors. I’m sure they do this so we can perfect our form but sadly I just picked apart how my hair was already out of place and how my sports bra seemed crooked. We started in on our poses and I felt proud of myself. I was able to do all the poses for the length of time as the instructors without having to go into child’s pose. We were flowing flawlessly into each pose and I couldn’t take my eyes of myself in the mirror. I mean I was looking pretty cute in my brand-new coordinating pink workout outfit.
I could feel the room getting warmer and warmer, but I still felt like I could handle the experience. But as we were moving into the next pose it happened.
The vain person that I am wanted to look my best for the class. I mean I didn’t know if I would run into an ex, my arch nemesis or a potential client. You have to be prepared at all times! So of course I got all dolled up with my makeup and perfume. So there I was about to flow into my next pose and felt for the first time in my life my skin start to glisten. I didn’t know how to process what was happening. What was this substance on my skin? I did the first thing I thought of, I took the towel that I thought was just there for show and wiped it across my face in one clean swoosh.
Well that swoosh worked a little too well. My white towel looked like a three year old finger painted all over it! I tried staring at myself in the mirror in front of me to see the damage I caused. But sadly the lights were dimmed low so I felt like I was looking at myself through wine goggles.
Luck was on my side and the instructor started to bring us into the final cool down pose. I couldn’t relax and enjoy the moment because I was paranoid of what would happen when the lights turned on. Would I pull a vampire move and gasped at the sight of light? Would my arch nemesis rise up from the back and take a photo of me to post while walking out? Would the instructor come to come to say hi and see that I looked like something I drew with my left hand? Those are chances I couldn’t take that day. I rolled up my mat and got the heck out of dodge.
Lesson learned: don’t wear makeup to any type of workout class, since sweat isn’t only something that happens in the movies. Also, working out is for suckers.
Now if you will excuse me I have a date with my bathtub, time to soak away the worries of the day. In the future I think I will stick to weightlifting my wine glass.