How Fatty Got Her Groove Back-The Journey

I was going to post a satirical piece about how I’d fare in a zombie apocalypse, but I felt that topic and type of humor would be in poor taste in light of recent events. To that, my thoughts are with those who have been forever affected by the shooting in Vegas. 
I will save the zombie post for another time. 
In its place is a throwback post about an experience I had with a friend in a Warm Flow yoga class. 
This is a humorous post, and I’m choosing to share this, because laughter is what gets me through tough times. I wish no sufferers and family members of victims any disrespect, and I only hope that they find again some happiness and humor in this scary world. 
Last week, A and I decided to give yoga at The Studio another shot, as our heated Vinyasa experience wasn’t the shit show we had envisioned it would be. We have a very limited availability while school is still in session, so our time frame in which to subject ourselves to exercise misery is tough to manage. 
We have both admitted that if we went home prior to working out, upon entering our respective homes, the pull of our couches and fat pants would be too great. 
Because we both understand the large scope of our eternal laziness, we felt it best to not even go home, but to drive straight to the studio. Do not pass “go”, do not collect any slurpees at 7-11 on your way, just get there before the tiny, minuscule flicker of desire has died. That’s been the game plan. 
A different class was offered at our preferred time called, Warm Flow. The name calls to mind a nice warm bath, a calm breeze on a summer day, the natural ebb and flow of the tide. In fat girl speak, it sounded easy.
However, we quickly found out it was anything but. What I didn’t notice upon signing up, was the level of this particular class. The level was a 2-3. In case you aren’t yoga literate, that level means: DA-FUQ. 
Yes, we attended a far too advanced-way hotter than heated Vinyasa-I’m glad I’m still alive to tell about it-yoga class. If heated Vinyasa was hot, this was the pits of hell unbearable. To make matters so much more uncomfortable, I noticed halfway through the class that we were directly underneath the heating vent. It was not even halfway pleasant. The only positive thing I could think of was, “At least I’m sweating my fat off. At least that.” 
Now, as this was a higher level yoga class, the moves were embarrassingly out of reach for us both. A faired slightly better than I, but overall we were both sweaty piles of disgrace. With the heat and the impossible contortions happening, I was actually not even embarrassed that I spent 99% of that class in child’s pose, or sitting slumped over on my mat, in a stupor. 
That was, at least, until the “Starer”.Yes, folks, we had an ogler. 
It was always my understanding that yoga was a kind of private experience. I always thought everyone would be too busy “ohm-ing” and listening to their breath to notice the ineptitude of others. Well, the “Starer” did not get that memo.
When there were only 15 glorious minutes of the class left, the instructor told us we would have time to practice our hand stands. After a snort and an eye roll, A and I decided we would just continue standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. The instructor must have thought that wasn’t kosher, because she actually moved our sweaty mats to the wall in a you’re-gonna-still-try-ya-fatties way. 
We tried the downward dog jumps in place of handstands, because, come on, I saw a broken nose in my immediate future. It was after this that we all found ourselves seated (yes!) on our mats, more or less, facing each other. It was at this point, I noticed the “Starer”. 
The way this person looked at me was more “OMG I can’t believe I’ve just seen the rare Pygmy Three-Toed Sloth” and less, “Wow, it’s a fat person attempting yoga.”
The “Starer” seemed shocked, curious, amused, and slightly disgusted all at the same time. What I wanted to say to this person was: “I know I’m not your usual level 3 Warm Flow yoga participant, but maybe you need to worry more about yo’self and your breathing or that really painful looking camel toe you have going on.”
I knew saying that wouldn’t have made me any friends, and I still have eight classes left on my Groupon for The Studio. I would actually like to show my sweaty face there again. 
And…I’ve discovered I actually want to continue this “yoga thing”.  It seems unbelievable, but I used to be a fairly limber child. When I was just learning to get up as a baby, I would do the splits. My mom thought something was wrong with me, but maybe I’m just naturally flexible? 
Before I got super awkward and tall, I did dance and gymnastics. My body actually used to be able to contort into a handstand backbend. I think I lost my flexibility, but Imma get it back. 
So, to the “Starer”, just you wait. Just.you.wait. *fist waving in air*
“How Fatty Got Her Groove Back” my journey will be called. 

Me, contemplating going back to yoga πŸ€”

Update: I have yet to get my “groove” back. 

54 thoughts on “How Fatty Got Her Groove Back-The Journey”

  1. I had my groove a minute ago. I don’t know where it is now. It guess it got up and got out. I never understood sweaty yoga. I’d like to get into yoga, just not the hot sweaty kind. I’m not sure about yoga levels, but DA-FUQ seems like a pretty high level!

  2. Love yoga. Love it, but heated yoga can fuck right off. Getting over heated can make me panic, and that is not why I came. Just let me touch my toes and feel pretentious. I must admit I stared once in a yoga class. It was this 85 year old man, who I would constantly look over to compare myself to, because every pose was much much better than mine lol
    https://damngirlgetyourshittogether.com/

    1. Dude. I think I’ve taken a class with that man. I felt so self-conscious that a man at that age was in better shape than me!
      I HATE being hot. I can withstand the heat if I’m on the floor the whole time.
      If I have to stand and exert myself, it’s Faint Time πŸ‘ŽπŸ»

  3. RUDE!
    Seriously. Someone staring at me like that would be enough to put me off going to yoga. She should at least try to ogle you superstitiously.

      1. I don’t really know American sizes, but I’m pretty sure I’m bigger than a 4! Screw the starers though. Isn’t the average size more like size 12!?

          1. Le-sigh. People are dicks.
            I sort of assumed they’d be fewer dicks at yoga because they should be relaxed after all that stretching!

  4. iTunes has the seasons of Namaste Yoga in the store. I bought that because Groupon doesn’t work for the city closest to me currently -though there /is/ a yoga studio. I usually just steal mom’s smart tv in the living room when she isn’t home and use it because my MacBook is compatible with it and I just follow it. Definitely worth a look into.
    And yoga is just relaxing. Boooooo on the “Starer” they can grow up and get a life and stop judging people. <3

  5. I can’t get my groove on either! I am having enough trouble at the gym that I have just started going to, there is no way I could even attempt yoga, I am sure I would tear something. As for the heat, that would be just too much to bear! The starter I could cope with but not the heat!

  6. Sorry…but all this talk of ‘warm flow’ yoga makes me need to pee…
    I still have a yoga studio just down the block from me. They still offer walk-in classes on Saturday morning. I’ve still walked PAST the place on my way to the farmer’s market for a fresh cheese curd and brat-breakfast, promising myself to stop in one o these days…
    But I still walk the 1.5 miles to work when weather cooperates, so that’s something…right?

  7. I don’t think I’ve ever had a groove. If I do, it’s lost. I have only just discovered armchair yoga. Some of the stretches are beyond my reach – my arms are not long enough and my legs don’t bend like wet spaghetti. As for heat? Oh yeah, I love me a nice hot sauna. But it’s a yoga free zone πŸ™‚

  8. “The level was a 2-3. In case you aren’t yoga literate, that level means: DA-FUQ”. Oh my goodness, I laughed out loud at this! Glad you survived! More tales of hot yoga sessions please πŸ˜€

  9. Yoga, particularly hot or warm yoga, should be a no-stare zone. I just went to a hot flow class yesterday and I couldn’t even look at MYSELF in the mirror much less anyone else. Yes, in case your wondering, I was thinking about what I was going to eat for lunch once we hit “Namaste” but that’s beside the point. I’m glad you’re doing the yoga thing! I really love it. The best part is practice will never, ever make perfect. Not for the bendy twenty-something in her yoga pants, and not for a creaky, forty-something like me! We all get to practice–so Starer keep your eyeballs to yourself or risk bad yoga juju forever.

    1. “Just add spiders”. That made me legit LOL. I know! It was always my nightmare too. But, now, I just remember that I’m always hot and a sweaty mess, so what’s a few more degrees??

  10. I am DEFINITELY trying to remember to hold my core and turn my arms in my shoulders and reach for the earth and/or sky and maintain my breathing and can barely stay a functional person, let alone stop and stare at someone else. Seriously, where did manners go????

  11. You are proper awesome πŸ’œ I would love to go to yoga with you! The warm flow would be amazing for my shite circulation. I would need an 80s print lycra leotard though. One of those g-string ones with the leggings underneath πŸ˜‰

  12. Wow. You have my utter and total respect. I simply cannot ‘do’ yoga. I think I am way too self-conscious. And sort of the point is to lose your self-consciousness, yes? Go to a ‘mellow’ place and all? Hmmm. I applaud you, and I simply wouldn’t worry about ‘getting your goove back’. If you ask me, you never lost it in the first place!

    1. It’s REALLY hard to get to a place where you feel comfortable. When I’m feeling self-conscious, my natural reaction is to laugh like an idiot. I’m a real loved “member” of yoga communities.

  13. I’ve tried yoga a handful of times, because I am completely not flexible and my body really needs to stretch if I plan to continue moving over the next few years πŸ™‚ Since I actually do need to move, I should probably do something about it. At any rate, the last time I went, the instructor came over to help me with a position. It was hysterical, cause she realized that it wasn’t that I didn’t know what she was saying, I just physically couldn’t do it! Oh, and the other funny thing – there were only 3 of us, one of whom was the (male) parent of one of my students….awkward!

    1. Oh man!!!! Awkward to have a parent there! And, yup…been there MANY times with being helped into a position that is physically impossible for me to get into πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜­πŸ˜¬

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