Day 4

Jan. 4, or, Fear and Loathing in Las Changeroom.

Asanas: Ray of Light sequence (twice) plus my own attempts at 2 warriors, twice, and 2 triangle poses.

Fuck me, I fucking hate fucking Walmart. I hate everything about the shopping experience there, or lack thereof. I was happy to have a received a hugely generous gift card from my in-laws for Walmart for Christmas, which meant finally! New work pants! But really, it meant pain and suffering and self-loathing in a filthy box of a change room. Apparently I am a big fat fuck. I looked in the mirror at myself in too-long-not-right-weird-cut pants and sweaters that looked adorable on the hanger, only to instantly morph into yarn-vomit on me and just felt so defeated. I *hated* myself in that mirror. I said some awful things to myself within the walls of my brain.

I walked out with a sweater, and a pair of pants erroneously picked up in regular length instead of petite (which means I get to go back to Walmart...fucking joy...) and a shirt, stuffed into bags with my leeks and cabbage...and didn't feel great about them. That's not cool, they were a gift.

I promptly went home, growled at Mr. Awesome as soon as I walked in the door about how much I fucking hate myself instead of hugging him and greeting him properly, and stomped into the bedroom, bitching all the way. He looked hurt...not 'cause I was bitchy, but because I was saying such awful crap about myself. I have the same look when he pulls a similar stunt. Our partners mirror us and neither of us can stand hearing each other put ourselves down. And, for the record, we both hate shopping for pants.

I put dinner in the oven and decided to disappear into the bedroom to do yoga while Mr. Awesome watched wrestling. I'm one pose away from giving up and diving into the remaining Quality Street chocolates ("why am I even doing this?! Who the fuck am I to think that I can even do yoga every day...I'm such a fat ass I can barely support my own weight! Fuck! Pass the fucking chocolate!!") when he comes in the bedroom, and tells me that the downward dog that I was currently in was, in his words, perfect. He tells me I am a perfect triangle. I am a perfect triangle!!

Suddenly, I am renewed. I do the sequence again...still can't do 4-legged staff whateverthehellit'scalled without belly-flopping on the mat, but I make it through...I focus on 3 long breaths in each pose. The floor work is killing my left hand, so I decide to switch to the warriors, 'cause I love them, for no reason other than that. I rock them. ATS has made my shoulder stronger so I can gaze over my fingertips with less wavering than before. While lying in my beloved savasana, my sore wrist propped up on the warm rad (due to space constraints) I cry a bit realizing how incredibly mean I was to myself in the change room. If I was in a relationship with myself and I said that to myself, I would've walked out on myself. Like forever. Kaput. It would've been over. Crazy thing is that I think that I might talk to myself like that, all the time...

It's been a lot to think about tonight.

Day 1

Jan. 1 (written on Jan. 2...ignore time delay please...)

Asanas: (Ray of light - sun salutation variation) Tadasana, Urdhva Hastasana, Uttanasana, Ardha Uttanasana, high lunge, Adho Mukha Svanasana, plank pose, Chaturanga Dandasana (barely), Urdhva Mukha Svanasana, Savasana

Holy crap, it's 2010. My

year of yoga challenge is already here. I am totally unprepared.

I enact the first of 365 yoga practices with two quiet repetitions of a variation of sun

salutation. It's really more of a snow salutation, as I stand in mountain pose, watching lovely snow flakes drift past the window. I can smell Christmas tree.

This is the first time I've done yoga since October. At 3 poses in, I am reminded that it's really hard. I am using Yoga Journal iPractice as my guide, this cool little app that I found for my iPod. The woman's voice is a bit higher pitched than I would like (all yoga instructors should be British dammit...with

that 'keep calm and carry on' or 'mind the gap' kind of accent...) but I kind of get used to it, the background music is just about right for first thing in the first morning of the year.

All eager to impress myself, I set the time between poses to 2.5 minutes...I just know that my inner peace will increase in leaps and bounds with a luxurious 2 and a half minutes on each pose. About 2.5 minutes later, I am stunned at my idiocy. "WTF was I thinking?" I yell to myself as I'm hanging in downward dog for what seems like an eternity. My shoulders swear hotly at me, my left wrist, always generally sore and even further bruised from a slip on the ice on New Year's eve, calls me co

mpounded names I don't dare repeat here. I totally pussy out at almost 2 mins in, collapse and pause the program, setting the time between poses to a realistic 30 seconds. I completely suck at some of the poses...my transitions are wonky, I feel my girth, weight and lack of bendyness in every single second. I remind myself that this is DAY ONE a gazillion times.

My body, now angered by hanging upside down for ridiculous amounts of time, sends a speedy message to my brain that reads something like "screw you, yoga keener you get to do this one more time before i make you HURT FOR REALS!" so I tell myself it's ok, I'm only just starting, and so two reps will be fine. Secretly, I am beyond relieved. My

shoulders and I call a truce. Seriously, Oct. 9 was the LAST time I did yoga. I'm a total beginner, wet behind the ears...or maybe I'm just bleeding out my ears from spending TOO MUCH TIME UPSIDE DOWN...?

I am head-butted by the dog as I transition into downward dog the second time around. I take this as a good omen, despite the fact that he damn near knocks me on my ass...

Whilst dead in corpse pose, I smell coffee brewing. The rest of the family is up, and they are preparing to caffeinate me. Bless their cotton socks.

About 4 hours later, I realize just how sore I SUDDENLY AM. Crap.