My first year in Philly, my roommate introduced me to Power Yoga Works, a studio that teaches the power vinyasa style of yoga. It's an hour and a half of a fast flow of poses one to another without stopping. They crank the thermostat up to 95 degrees and throw in an ab workout at the end. It's a pretty big ass-kicking, and we were in great shape that year. More unexpectedly, we were also ridiculously happy. In addition to being a great workout, yoga also put us on this perennial emotion high.
The house we were renting that year was slowly falling apart, and we were eventually driven out by cockroaches and mice. On the first cold day, the furnace broke. The first time it snowed, our pipes froze and we went without water in the house for three days. About a month later, the toilet experienced a major malfunction and poop water started coming up through the shower drain.
As we sat on the couch, listening to the sounds of our landlord bailing out the toilet with one of our cooking pots, my roommate and I couldn't help laughing hysterically at the situation. Nothing could get us down, not even having to bleach the crap out of our bathroom.
After that year, my roommate went off to med school, and I became extremely stressed out by school. Going to yoga just made me tired and angry. I would be like "why is it so hot in here?" or "why do I have to do a billion crunches?" And I would call the nice, sweet, hippie yoga instructor a stupid bitch under my breath.
Since I figured this was not the right yogic attitude, I've been taking the past few months off yoga. I've tried to do it on my own at home, but I'm pretty lazy. I miss it, and I miss my yoga body. So this Friday, 6pm class, I'm back baby!
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4 comments:
one time the bathroom above our apt in boston overflooded (probably because they shoved one too many dime bags down there during police inspections) and all this poop water crashed into my roommate's closet. as i was helping her remove all her clothes (read: touch all the poop water with my hands when she just stood there), all i could do was laugh. and be grateful it wasn't my clothes.
power yoga, here we come!
The one time I tried doing yoga, I aggravated my pinched nerve and couldn't walk the rest of the day. And to keep with the topic of conversation, I just finished pooping mango chicken. It smelled sweet and savory with a slight orangish tint.
you can't do yoga on friday at 6. we have a date at the bar.
a date? what would your boyfriend say? you know I need yoga to counteract all the fatness. let's go to naked later that night.
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