Oh Regina George. If only Bikram Yoga had been trendy back then.
Last night my friend M and I had our first experience with Hot Yoga – or as I like to think of it: WHAT THE F WAS I THINKING yoga.
Here we are before the class. Please believe me when I say we did not plan the outfits. And yes, they are the same C9 from Target shorts. We even had the same nail polish on. I’ve known M since we were about 2 and while our moms used to dress us in matching denim skorts, I like to think we grew out of that phase. Or not. It was especially funny when Madame Yogi Nazi kept mixing up our names – very reminiscent of Girl Scout Camp circa 1996.
We look excited right? Well about 2 minutes into the class I was downright terrified. I thought I was actually going to drown in a pool of my own sweat, or maybe shrivel up and turn into a human raisin. I do not know how the human body can pour out that much sweat and still function (semi) normally. After the first 30 minutes, I began needing periodic breaks to keep from passing out. With 10 minutes to go, I knew I could consider it a success if I didn’t puke upon standing.
After 90 minutes of pure torture (I was never warned that this would be more barking out orders and less “now breathe in the good and breathe out the bad” like all other yoga classes I’ve taken) we finally drug our useless bodies out of the sweat sauna and into the most delicious, amazing, refreshing, 101-polluted air I have ever enjoyed. Ever.
This is our “After” picture. The sad thing is, we noticed that we don’t even look that sweaty. That, my friends, is because we are so absolutely drenched to the core that there are no marks left on our clothes that are dry enough to actually see that they are wet. SICK.
After spending 10 minutes recuperating in M’s car (aka. trying to determine if it was safe enough to get behind the wheel without passing out) I managed to drag my butt home, sweaty and slightly proud/delirious. And for God-Knows-What-Reason, we committed to going back tomorrow. I better look like fricking Gisele after this crap.
And in the middle of writing this post I saw the following on my facebook wall from M:
I really wish I was joking but I just picked up my clothes from last night to wash them and they are still damp
Oh jeez I have yet to even pick mine up from the pile I left them in.