I’ve just done hot yoga and I’ve never known sweat like it. Holy Mary.
If sweat is fat, crying, well mine wasn’t just having a little weep, it was bawling big, ugly tears all over the place.
Literally. I was in downward dog and the sweat was dripping off the end of my nose, on to the yoga mat my friend lent me. Sorry Priya, it’s well manky now. I’ll give it a wipe down before I give it back. It was running down inside my ears. My leggings were saturated. You could wring out my vest.
Ross did not say this to me when I got home and showed him my sweat.
There was a point at the beginning, straight after the chanting I couldn’t keep a straight face through, and after all the omms, where I did wonder what the hell I was doing. When I’d done so many sun salutations I couldn’t remember where I was and my muscles were screaming in abject agony. Where I couldn’t get the breathing right and I could already see beads of the relentless sweat (oh god, the relentless sweat) appearing on the tops of my arms. At that point I thought, sod this, the person in front of me just almost poked my eye out with her big toe. But then the yogi came and stood on my thighs to ease me into a posture and it felt amazing.
Lately, I’ve had quite a lot to drink in the evenings. It’s getting into the red wine months, isn’t it? The novelty of a nice shiraz hasn’t yet worn off. I’ve been enjoying a bottle in the evenings, and it’s been pleasant. We’ve been watching Breaking Bad on Netflix and kicking back with a glass of wine and it’s been great. Last night I went to the pub with Dee and we had a couple of pints. It was loud and everything was funny. I was hyperbolising all over the place because thats what I do when I’ve had a bit to drink. I told her all the funny shit my six year old says. She’s intelligent, is my Ruby, and the things she says sound funny coming from the mouth of such a tiny child. She tells intellectual jokes about NASA where many kids are content with a knock knock joke, and she educates her friends about the Hubble telescope and can’t get her head around the fact that a lot of her peers haven’t even heard of it, let alone know what it is. Anyway, I digress wildly. Lately I’ve been drinking probably more than the recommended 2-3 units a day, and I feel sluggish. I went to hot yoga knowing I’d sweat it all out and on the way home I felt cleaner somehow. Lighter, maybe. Less gross, definitely.
So that was my experience of hot yoga, and I thought I’d share it all with you. Hot. Mainly sweaty. A bit amusing with all the chanting. Give it a try. Why not, eh?
Inhale, arms up. Exhale, hands to prayer. Namaste, bitches.