weight

That One Time In Yoga Class

I’ve been trying really hard to lose weight. I mean, REALLY hard. I’ve stopped complaining and I’m just doing it. First thing I did, starting about two months ago, is I got a Fitbit from my hubby for Christmas. I’ve been walking about 5 miles a day consistently, and while my legs are a little stronger, I haven’t lost a bit of weight. So, I’ve also added in actual yoga classes twice a week and the dreaded idea of counting calories. It’s all very annoying, BUT I’m feeling good about things, and eventually, something’s gotta give. Hopefully, my weight will drop and not my sanity. On Monday, I attended a Vinyasa Yoga class. I’m still pretty new to the whole idea of deep breathing without expecting an orgasm, so I sometimes get a little lost. I was doing well in the class and have even mastered Downward Dog, and then dropping to the floor in a push up (Plank), and then pretending I’m a snake (though I’ve been told I don’t actually have to hiss).

I was feeling really proud of myself on Monday for keeping up with the mostly 60 and 70-year-old retirees, until the yoga instructor had us all sit down and then she said something in Sanskrit or something and all the 70-year-olds suddenly flipped their legs over their heads and planted their feet on the wall. My face flushed with heat and I actually had a mini-panic attack. I mean, it sorta looked like they were trying to put their face where it had no right to be.

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Here is the quick conversation that happened as the class held their position and breathed deeply:

INSTRUCTOR:

Are you okay, Tanya?

ME:

Yes. It’s just…

INSTRUCTOR:

Just flip over. You can totally do this.

ME:

I’m pretty sure I haven’t done THAT since I was like ten, and it was probably an accident.

INSTRUCTOR:

I’ll help you. One…two…See! You’re doing it!

ME: (strangled voice)

I. You know? I’m not. Supposed. To do this.

INSTRUCTOR:

Are you okay? Your face is kinda red.

ME: (whispered) I’m stuck.

INSTRUCTOR:

Hmm? What was that?

ME:

I’m stuck! Stuck!!!

 

Then she patted my lower back that was pretzeled over my head and said “That’s okay. You can just rest for a while.”

 

I couldn’t rest until she awkwardly helped me flip back over and then helped me into a fetal position so I could hide my shame.

For the rest of the class I rested. And dreamed of drinking a martini.

Maybe I’m just meant to be the way my body is right now without the aerodynamics. Unless I start losing weight, then I’m totally doing that again.

How about a naked wedding?

So the muther humping dresses I ordered don't fit. I'd like to blame the company I ordered them from, but I think instead I'll blame my genetics. When people ask me my nationality, I usually say, I'm not sure but we were a people who birthed babies and carried heavy objects. Hence my hips. And, apparently, my ENORMOUS ribcage. If I wear a cape for a wedding, no one will know that the blasted thing won't close and I can give up my impossible dream of trying to diet myself into thin-dom. I am not thin. I'm no Princess Kate. I'm possibly TWO Princess Kates sharing the same body. Yeah. Each one of my legs is a Princess Kate.

I'm not bemoaning being fat. I know I'm not fat...but searching for a wedding dress is bringing up every single insecurity I've ever had in my entire life over everything.

(Sometimes, a girl needs hyperbole.)

My future mother-in-law is coming over in a few minutes to take my enormous hips out to find a dress. I envision much crying to come. Why is this so hard? Why is it hard to find a dress that is flattering to a woman with hips and knockers? Huh? I ask you, why is it hard to find a dress for a WOMAN, a dress that doesn't look like a mumu, or like I can hide midgets under my skirt, or a dress that is so tight I can't breathe or if I want to breathe then I have to remove some ribs?

This shouldn't be so hard.

If this doesn't work, then I'm sending out new invitations to everyone. They will read as follows:

Please Join Kealoha And Tanya for their Clothing Optional Nuptials. Please note, they will not serve hot food or drinks to cut down on possibilities of burns. They will also not offer a limbo contest (for obvious reasons).

On second thought, if I don't find a dress, maybe I'll just paint one on. The wedding is during Art Prize after all. Maybe we'll make the top ten and win a big prize. Maybe even a trip to Paris!!

*sigh* Let me have my fantasies, please.