To Yoga, or not to Yoga

I used to be a big girl. Okay, who am I kidding, I am still a big girl, I used to be a huge girl. After the birth of my third (and thankfully last) child, I weighed in at 267 at just over 5 feet tall. I remember standing in the bathroom naked, looking in the mirror and sucking in my tummy. Nothing moved. Something needed to be done. 

I would love to say that I embarked on a workout routine that would make Jillian Michaels cry, but I didn't. I can't tell you that I discovered a wonderful diet that just melted the pounds away. What I did do was go to counselling for my depression (another day, another post) and stop eating crap ALL the time. I still eat crap, I just don't eat it morning, noon and night. 

My youngest is approaching her fourth birthday and I am happy to say that I tip the scales at 185 lbs. Not skinny, but when I suck in, my junk gets into position. Even when I don't suck in, I have an hourglass shape, not a tomato. 

When I look in the mirror now, if I squint my eyes and take my glasses off, I like what I see. It would be nice to simply like what I see, in broad daylight, with my glasses on and my eyes wide open. 

So I decided to start an exercise program, tone up and get down to where I really want to be. I hate to exercise. There is something about dripping sweat, not being able to breathe and having muscles so sore that I wish for death that turns me off. 

I figure that yoga, with it's focus on poses, breathing and stretching would be a good fit for me. I am excited to work-out while sitting or standing still, sounds easy. Sign me up!  

I head on down to my local Wal-Mart and buy the three yoga DVDs that say beginner. One is actually a pre-natal yoga video. I think that since I am not pregnant it shouldn't be too hard. 

Why do I bother thinking when my brain is plotting against me?

Once home, I put on my work out clothes, grab some water and pop in the pre-nanal DVD all ready for relaxing, healthy yoga. 

By the end of the warm-up, sweat was starting to bead around my forehead. "Not so bad" I think, "On the aerobics DVD I am usually out of breath by now". 

Minutes later I find myself in downward facing dog. For those of you who don't do yoga-speak, downward dog is palms and feet on the floor, butt in the air. "I can do this! This crap's easy" I exclaim aloud. 

Don't ever do this, statements like this anger the yoga gods and they are easily offended. 

The cheerful woman on my t.v. tells me to lower myself onto my tummy, keeping my hips off the floor and arching my back so my head is looking up, she called it Baby Cobra. I try to arrange my body in this position but I can't get my hips off the floor. 

"Breathe deeply and slowly as you hold this position" the DVD instructor tells me. 

As I am holding the pose and attempting to turn my breathing into deep controlled breaths, my arms start to shake, and the sweat is running into my eyes. I can no longer see the mean DVD lady, I listen carefully for the next pose. 

"Press back up into downward dog, and  then balance yourself on your left foot and hand stretching your right foot and hand to the sky, breathe in and out." The sadist instructs. 

I do as I am told and quickly discover that labor is not the worst pain in the world. In fact, I would rather be giving birth to quintuplets than holding this damn pose for another 15 seconds. 

The wretched cow's voice becomes more and more nasal as she tells me to "release back into downward dog and complete the pose on the right side, holding for 30 seconds. 

I look up at the screen and swear she's enjoying my pain. Grunting and swearing I push back up into downward dog and balance myself on my other side. My arms and legs are trembling and numb. My hair, dripping with sweat is hanging in a matted clump against my face. I wonder how the hell a pregnant woman can do this and why. 

Little Miss Yoga tells me to stand up and go into a lunge pose (at this point I cannot remember names because sweat fried my circuits). I lunge. Holding a lunge pose is easy compared to the last part so I am thrilled. 

My happiness evaporated with the harpy's next instructions. "Leaning back and remembering to breathe, take your back foot with your hands and pull your heel up to your bottom, and hold, opening your chest to the sky".

I lean back and reach for my foot, which is just out of reach. I strain and try again. I manage a slippery grab on my big toe. Risking dislocation I pull my heel to my butt and open my chest to the sky. 

"Just hold the pose and breathe"

Breathe? Screw breathing, I just want to live through this. Blood is rushing in my ears, the numbness in my limbs has turned into fire and my clothes are soaked through. 

All hope for survival flies out the window when that foul woman serenely tells me to do it again with the other leg. Who the hell can sound calm at a time like this.

I switch legs and make several weak attempts to grasp my foot. I struggle and manage to get my foot where it needs to be. I am holding the pose and trying to breathe, when I fall over sideways. 

At this point I hit pause on the DVD player just to see how much time has elapsed. I am shocked to discover that only 20 minutes of the 60 minute workout has passed. That's 40 minutes left!

I slump to the floor in a defeated sweaty heap and assume the fetal position. I don't want to do another 40 minutes of this, I can't do another 40 minutes of this. Why do people do this to themselves? It can't be good for you. 

As I lay on the floor, moaning my pity ditty, my daughter comes up and asks "mom, why are you melting on the floor?" 

"Because mommy wants to be healthy and live a long time for you" I say, giving her the good mom answer. 

I realize the truth of my words. I do want to be as healthy as possible to give myself the best possible chance of always being there for them. I want to see them grow up. I want to be an active part of their lives. Most of all, I want to be a role model for them. I never want them to look in the mirror and feel shame. 

Then I realize that if I give up, the sadistic, DVD witch wins, and we can't have that. What's 40 minutes?