Twist And Shout, Part Deux

197.8 lbs. The more distance between me and the two century mark, the better I like it.

As much as it felt like Mahatma Gandhi kicked my ass (Non-violence. Yeah, right. The man WAS a lawyer) on Tuesday, the after-effects didn’t really kick in until yesterday. The guys will gross out (as they do when we talk “lady stuff”), but can you say “Aunt Vinyasa Flo”? Oh yeah. The bitch showed up after being gone for months (and I had sung good riddance).  I was ready to go Ozzie Osbourne on the first bat that crossed my path. Thankfully, I found red wine instead. The Hitching Post’s Hometown Pinot Noir is good stuff. And available at Whole Foods*.  (*In California. Otherwise, mail order it through their website. It’ll get to you in plenty of time for THAT time).

However, I would not be defeated.  Anything that contributes to breaking a 4 day plateau with a 1.2 lb. loss has my complete attention. Unless it’s swallowing a tapeworm.  And yes, I have considered that. For about 5 minutes.

Let me give you a few of the highlights here:

I felt like crap before I went into class, lower back pain, BAD attitude and a raging craving for red wine. Or bourbon. Or a 10 hour nap. Plus, it’s tax time and I KNOW I’m not due for a refund. If I had come across Osama Bin Laden before class, not only would I have been able to collect the $25 million bounty on his head, but there wouldn’t have been anything left for trial, just a few scraps of DNA for identification. When you haven’t been hormonal for months, not only are you out of practice with dealing with the extreme coaster that is the Estrogen Express (Coming soon to Disney’s newest theme park, Baby Boomtown and Adult Day Care Center), but Aunt Flo gets to behaving like a newly graduated Catholic School girl. Or Britney Spears.  Bigger swings than Manny Ramirez. And it’s the same hormone he injected.

Somehow, it was necessary to tame the raging spirit dwelling within.

However, since there’s no one I want to get away with killing (PMS defense), I might as well go back for seconds.  

Having been able to “keep up” (Look, it’s my story and I can exaggerate if I want to) on Tuesday, I was expecting a repeat today, maybe even get that foot off the ground.

Yeah, not so much. Today, I created some new poses: not so much the Chair as the Methane Torpedo Tube (toxins expelled), the Fallen Warrior and the “Oh, God, even the Viking Biker at the back of the room is more flexible than I am.” (Really, the guy at the back of the room looked like a Viking biker. Viker?) A friend had told me that yoga was a means to opening up psychic abilities. It’s true: I suddenly knew there was going to be a triple dose of Aleve in my future.

One move, involving crossing one leg over the other and twisting was called the Happy Cow. I grew up in Vermont and I’ve never seen a bovine pull off this move. And it made me crave In N Out. Double double? THAT’S a Happy Cow.

This time, we had music. I was expecting maybe some sitar and tabla, you know Ravi Shankar or even Anoush Shankar (yes, she’s real), but for a few minutes, we got Hindu rap. ABBA would have been more effective to clear and center the mind. Or Elton John with the Muppets.

I did manage to achieve healing, centering and serenity. It just took a glass of wine, some chocolate and 2 Aleve to get there.