Tag Archives: yoga

Just a little bit of retail therapy

Today Zoe and I were at the gym for 2 whole hours. That’s the second time this week that we’ve done that. Pretty awesome, huh? I would like to say that today’s workout was a little bit easier than Monday’s, but I think I’m going to be more sore…so, it’s still a toss-up. After sweating for 2 hours I headed over to Target for some cereal and milk. While on the way to Target I realized that if I took just a little longer than necessary I could catch Brad at lunchtime. So, I made a quick decision. Zoe would go without her morning nap, we would stroll through Target, I would just get cereal {so the milk wouldn’t sit in the car}, we would run another errand, and then be at Brad’s work right on time. Awesome plan, right?


As I was strolling through the aisle I saw the workout section immediately in front of me. With all this working out, a girl can use as many sports bras as she can get her hands on. Right? Who’s with me? So, into the cart goes a hot pink sports bra. This brings my count up to 3, which is a pretty decent window for them to rotate through the dirty clothes…at least the way Brad does laundry. Speaking of which, I think he’s on strike. =)

Then we went to the 70% of clearance section. Nothing looked good. Well, I mean, it probably did but I don’t really want to buy a whole lot for the size I am now. So, we walked away. Up next, the baby aisle. You can’t go to Target and not stop at the baby aisle when you have a 10 month old sitting in your cart. It’s mandatory. Plus, we needed to get some food so that Zoe could eat lunch with her Daddy. Two things of baby food went into the cart.

We head {ever so sorely} over to the food section. Cereal is, after all, what I originally came to Target for in the first place. But, a few aisles before the cereal aisle is the chip aisle…and I haven’t had any chips and salsa recently. One bag of chips went into the cart. I made my way to the breakfast aisle, grab some cereal and think to myself that the mornings where I try to catch an 8:30 class I don’t eat breakfast because I don’t have time. I should grab some granola bars. So, you guessed it, one box of granola bars went into the cart. Next up, Diet Coke. Because one of my baby steps is to cut back on Diet Coke, I don’t allow myself to stop for a drink anymore. I don’t know if you realize how much of a commitment that is for me. I love fountain Diet Cokes. I drink them like they’re my lifeline. You will very seldom ever see me without a Diet Coke. It’s not healthy…I know. But, it’s the truth. So, my compromise {to offset the cost of the gym membership} is that I don’t stop to get a drink anymore. Now, Brad can stop….but I can’t. So a couple 2 liters went into the cart. On the same aisle is juice. Juice that Zoe can’t drink yet. Juice that is staring me in the face. I could use some apple juice. I’m sure that Zoe would love some apple juice. I think about it for a second. I ask Zoe if she wants some. She smiles, I take that as a yes, and one bottle of apple juice goes into the cart.

At that point I declare myself done and head to the door before I can do anymore damage. But, then I see to my left what looks to be really cool water bottles. And, again, every good gym junkie needs their own personal water bottle. Right? I take an immediate left and start checking them out. They are beautiful sights to behold. Sleek. Sexy. Colorful. BPA free. {What the heck is BPA? I don’t know. But, it’s apparently good} One is so cool that it’s even one-handed, you just push a lever. Spill proof. Sweat proof. So much better than the plastic water bottles that I rotate through. I look at the sports bra. I look at the water bottles. They’re the same price and I know I can only have one. Ugh! Decisions! I guess, when it comes right down to it, I’d rather have my boob stay put than drink through a sleek, sexy, beautiful water bottle. I put it back on the shelf and walk away.

I tell myself to get to the checkout line. I’m apparently going crazy. You might wonder why I’m still in the store for so long…it’s because I can’t walk. Every single muscle in my legs hurts, and for added pleasure, Zoe is taking things out of the cart and dropping them on the floor. Repeatedly. And then crying when I take them away cause mommy doesn’t play that game. As I’m walking I remember staring at my toes in yoga. I think that on one of my toes my nail polish has chipped away into the shape of Africa. I need a pedicure. Hey! I can give myself a pedicure while Zoe takes her nap! I can give myself a facial too. Oh boy! I should go get some new nail polish. {This is truly crazy. I have a ton of great nail polish choices at home} What a great treat after a hard workout! So off we go to the cosmetics department where I search for just the right color hot pink for summer. I find it and one bottle of nail polish goes into the cart.

Done! I am d.o.n.e. I’ve done enough damage for one day. I get to the checkout just as fast as I can hobble and check out. Sheesh. Enough already! The total is like $33…not bad. I was more scared than I needed to be. Besides, almost everything in the cart is needed. On the way to the car I think to myself, “Didn’t I just go in there for some cereal?” Does that happen to anybody else?

The Loot {minus Zoe’s lunch}

Now, if you’ll excuse me…I need to go slather on a face mask and paint my toes!

Happy Wednesday everybody!


Gentle Yoga 101

It’s my first day at the gym. Yes, the gym. I told you I suck at being motivated to do the at-home DVD’s and I was right…I haven’t had a date with Tony from Beachbody in a while. And I weighed myself. Yuck. It was the first time I’ve weighed myself since my postpartum appointment with Zoe. ‘Twas not pretty. So, whether we can afford it or not…I am beyond caring. YMCA, here I come.

I drop Zoe off at the {awesome} daycare they provide {hello, reason I chose this gym} and head to the elliptical. I’ve psyched myself up for this. I like working out. Repeat after me, “I like working out”. Yes. I do. I like water. I don’t like Diet Coke. And I like working out. I like to sweat. I want to sweat. Sweat…sweat means you’re working out. Sweat! {Um, I abhor sweat. My sport in high school was the swim team…because you don’t know you’re sweating in the water.} I do 15 minutes and I am sweating like a man. Like a large, hairy-chested man. No worries though, because my bottle of Evian water is sitting right there on the elliptical. Look at me. I’m a fancy gym person. I drink Evian. {Ok, not really. I’m wearing Brad’s t-shirt, yoga pants that are ridiculously stretched out, Brad’s tennis shoes, and my hair is in a knot on the top of my head…and I’m sweating. Profusely. Not to mention the Evian is a fluke, the gas station didn’t have normal water and I hate Dasani. There just really isn’t a whole lot “fancy” about me.} I look at the clock. Yoga is starting in 7ish minutes. Better get on that…

I locate the “Spirit, Mind, Body” studio and am greeted inside by a dark room, about 20 people already on yoga mats, sitting cross-legged with their palms on their knees. I find a yoga mat, I place it in the last available slot at the BACK of the room, sit down, and text Brad. That’s right. I texted Brad from my yoga class while all the “yogi’s” were stretching and/or meditating. Cause I’m cool like that. Actually, what I texted him was, “In a yoga class, pray I don’t die”. He replied, “Don’t overdue it.” I said, “It’s gentle yoga…how bad can it be?” {Ridiculously long pause…nervous laughter on the inside}

A few more people saunter barefoot into the room, one of them is a girl my height {5’11”}, tan, skinny but with all the right curves, and with bleach blonde hair. She is the epitome of the “Florida beach babe”. I name her Perfect Girl. She takes the space directly in front of me. Then a man in very tight bicycle {yoga?} shorts walks in and places his mat in the front. Ah! This must be the teacher. “Gud Mawning” he says from the front of the class as he sits Indian style with one foot touching his belly button. Oh Lord Jesus…this could get interesting. He continues his introduction and I understand nothing that he is saying…and, BONUS, I can barely see him either because I left my glasses in the car. Because I knew I would sweat. Profusely. He has us meditating. Concentrating on breathing. A few opening stretches and I find myself in Downward Facing Dog. My body moves through the yoga positions with some muscle memory…and no grace. “Yez…and now we arrre going to reach to the skyz, and then wez bow forward touching our headz to our kneez”, he says. Hands up, got it, bend over…my body stops when my head/chest is parallel to the ground…there will be no “forehead to the knees” business here today. Yoga chick to my left is literally bent in half. What the crap?!?! And, oh my god, I think my boob just fell out of my bra. Yes is did. Darn you, nursing boobs. We stand back up and I try to nonchalantly jam my boob back in. Classy.

We go back to the Downward Facing Dog. It’s this man’s favorite position. My boob tries to re-emerge and I feel like I have to fart. For real. I begin begging God to please, please, please not let me fart. Oh, Dear Lord…can you even imagine? And then my fears are relieved…because the man to my right definitely just farted. Loudly. Oh Lord Jesus. I start to sweat. Again. We move through stretch after stretch. I eventually stop looking to see what chick to my left is doing because she’s practically perfect at this crap. Lady to my right starts grunting. I’ve been internally grunting for a while. Perfect girl in front of me is hanging in there, but she tweaking as she goes.

He has us up on our knees, arms reaching back. He says, “Good! Zis iz how you do ze backbend! Now, take one hand and put ze hand on your ankle.” Whew, easier than I thought. “Now, switch ze hand”. K, my left side is definitely more tense than my right. “And now we do zis with both hands. We do ze camul.” {I think he said Camel. Pretty sure. If you know the yoga pose I’m talking about and it’s not the Camel then feel free to correct.} My head jerks up to look at the front of the class. He wasn’t joking. Oh, Hell no. The rest of the class goes into a backbend except me and Perfect Girl. Perfect girl puts her hands on her hips and I follow suit. We stop to meditate. I can’t help looking at the clock, wondering if this is a 30 minute class or 1 hour. It’s been 25 minutes so far…I’ve either almost made it, or I just might officially suck at “gentle yoga”. We’re still meditating. I start twitching.

Instructor Dude starts talking about his son. This man talks more than any other yoga instructor that I’ve ever seen before. He starts telling us that he was at his sons school and he was showing them yoga poses and this is what he did. He leans forward from his sitting position, puts his hands on the floor, puts his forehead to his forearms, raises his torso over his hands, his head is almost touching the ground, raises his legs to just above his elbows. I think, “oh..I’ve seen this before. He’s doing that pose where you rest your knees on your elbows.” But, then his legs keep going, with incredible balance he puts his legs straight in the air, then spreads them wide into a split, then straight again, and then finally, stands up. I realize that my jaw is almost touching the ground, and I haven’t taken a breathe during this whole demonstration. Instructor Dude just did a full on hand stand, into an inverted split, back to a hand stand FROM THE SITTING POSITION IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM!!! I begin to applaud. Yep, in the middle of yoga class, I begin to applaud and cheer. One person joins me…out of pity, I’m sure. Then he tells us that it’s our turn. I, respectfully, decline.

A few more cool down exercises, some floor exercises, and a lot more meditating and the class is finally done. It wasn’t 30 minutes, but it wasn’t 1 hour either…and I think it’s called gentle yoga because of how much meditating we did. I have to admit…I was writing my blog post in my head every single time we were supposed to be meditating, and staring at the clock, and thinking about Zoe in the daycare, and watching people outside the window. I sucked at meditating.

Class ended. I picked up Zoe from daycare. We drove directly to Target to buy a sports bra so that maybe, just maybe, my boob won’t fall out of my bra next week when I take that class again. =) Day 1 of the gym. I survived. And, I must admit…it was pretty damn nice to not have a huge dog and a baby underfoot while I worked out.