Bikram Is For Bitches

Tell me I’m not alone because you’re a raving bitch sometimes, too. Please.

I will go on record and admit that yesterday I was in the bitchiest mood I can remember in a very long time. Just like the BNSF trains barreling down the tracks at the end of my street, it was virtually unstoppable with no crossing gates (I can do bitch well when I set my mind to it).

There are reasons why, of course. Hint: It wasn’t my inability to sleep past 6:30am even given the “fall back” promise of an extra hour of sleep or the expired milk I poured in my cereal that I didn’t realize until too late. Takes more.

Before getting out of bed today, I, to my surprise, discovered my inner bitch hadn't left the building! Yikes! And the only way I could think to kick her ass was Bikram. Bikram would wring out every existing ounce of that bitch. Bikram never lets me down.

It’s just you and nothing but you, standing in one spot frozen like a statue with no place to go for help or excuse or scapegoat except inward. -Bikram Choudhury

Not me but my Bikram studio
Bikramburrridge.com

I unrolled my mat in the rear of the 105-degree room and promptly got into savasana (dead man’s pose) while waiting peacefully prone for class to start. I felt relaxed down to my bones. Deep breathes.

<Clap, Clap> “Everyone up. Center of your mat.”

I obeyed like a good and obedient yogi turning to find my eyes in the mirror. Instead, I caught a glimpse of pink just to my left. Directly in my peripheral line of sight was one of the most competitive, bitter, judgmental people I have known in my life.

I thought, “This is just a test. A huge mental game.”

More deep breathes. 

Focus.

I spent the entire 90 minutes in a horribly hot room trying not think how annoyed I was with her in front of me. It took every ounce of English bulldog determination to tune her tiny ass out (yes, she’s an over-exerciser and not very flexible…). 

And the second our instructor uttered “Namaste”, I sprinted for the door so I didn’t have to talk to her because listening to her (voice even) is enough to ruin anyone’s day. Not exactly the Zen experience I expected today.

So did Bikram actually do the trick? Am I more peaceful and less bitchy than I was 24-hours ago or this morning? I’m probably not the best judge of that but I think so. Update to follow after 5:00pm when hubby weighs in with his opinion.

Nothing can steal happiness, peace away from you: if anyone does make you angry, you are the loser; if someone can allow you to lose peace, you are the loser. -Bikram Choudhury

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Thanks to Linda Roy over at elleroy was here, I get to hang out with lots of other people who don't like Monday's either. And stop over at Yeah Write where they are hosting a Blogher NaBloPoMo  grid for all of us who'll be writing every day this month.

It's Like Going to a Voluntary Torture Chamber

You know what Sunday means to me...stream of consciousness writing linked up at Jana's Thinking Place. Jana's totally optional prompt this weekend is "It's like going to..."

I will try to explain my current obsession in 5 short minutes, in bursts of unedited writing. So here goes:

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It’s like going to…

A voluntary “torture chamber” and losing your mind for 90 minutes.

It feels like Death Valley in July when it’s really only 105 degrees.

It smells like the most disgusting pair of boy’s gym shoes.

It’s feels like your heart will never stop racing uncontrollably or your head won’t shake the dizzies.

It’s the same no matter where you go or whom you do it with. It will be exactly the same every single time. You know what it’s like and you do it anyway.

It’s like bathing in your own sweat. The kind that runs down your face, past your eyes, into your mouth. Drips off every fingertip. The end of your nose. You want to wipe the sweat. That’s the challenge but if you don’t challenge yourself, you can’t improve.

You think there's no way you’ll wear a little bra and skin-tight shorts like the girl in front of you! But now you will because it makes perfect sense.

It’s like going into fight-or-flight mode and all you can think about is escaping so you push that out of my mind.

“This is simply a fidget.” You say to yourself. “So don’t fidget then.” You answer. Quiet the internal chatter.

Mind over matter, mind over matter, mind over matter.

And eventually the transformation happens.

You start looking forward to class and the chance to reflect alone for 90 minutes.  You want to go! You embrace this new addiction you’ve tried to hate but you can’t hate something that feels so good in it’s completion even though you dread every moment leading up to opening that door.

It’s a love you want to hate but you don’t.

It’s Bikram yoga.

It’s like going into a “torture chamber” that’s never felt so good. When it's over.