Yoga Returns

It's been over a year now since Satan's Mistress, my yoga instructor Mary Ann, up and married and moved herself off to Birmingham, Alabama, thus ending my brief and colorful career as a perpetual yoga student.  For me, yoga turns out to be a lot like childbirth in that as time goes by, the memory of the pain fades.  This is how I rationalize my second foray into the twisted world of sun salutations and downward dogs.

It happened innocently enough.  I was cruising through a church rummage sale on Saturday when I spied and then bought a boxed set of VHS yoga tapes.  At the time it seemed like a  fabulous find -  two tapes for one dollar.  Sale items often cause a form of temporary amnesia in me and for a moment - just long enough to check out - I forgot how I feel about this particular form of exercise.
Instead,  I was swept up in the thrill of the trash-to-treasures moment, grateful that my VCR was still fully functioning.  (Otherwise what would I do if I ever wanted to watch all those Richard Simmons "Sweatin' to the Oldies" tapes?)

When the weekend was over and I was emotionally back on solid ground, I exercised the bad judgment of telling my walking partners about the tapes. Before I could squirm into a pair of leotards, I found myself in my basement with a friend, listening to all the warnings about visiting doctors before beginning new exercise programs.  Who are they trying to kid here?  If I did that, I'd need a standing appointment.

My new prince of evil is named Rodney and he has the finely chiseled muscles of a youth who spends way too much time lifting weights at the gym.  I'm not so sure I want to take exercise advice from someone who's that into himself.  

This tape was copyrighted in MCMXCVIII (don't ya just love Roman numerals?) No matter how much effort I put into fitness, I'm pretty sure that I'm never gonna look as good as I did in 1998.  I'm not gonna lie to you - that's just a bit irritating, especially when I consider that Rodney will remain forever young. No sagging glutes for him, no paunchy abs.  Not even a tinge of graying at the temples.  No, thirty-something Rodney will be my own Dorian Gray, watching me age while he, himself, serenely smiles.

There are several pluses to using this videotape program though.  Obviously if I'm in my basement, I won't be seen outside the house in my exercise outfit. That is a huge check mark on the positive side of the paper for both me and the community at large, trust me.  Also, if I look crazy attempting one pretzel pose or another, only one person will laugh out loud at me and I'm pretty sure that if I blow in her direction, I can make her fall over sideways.  The biggest benny by far though is that any time I want to - any time at all - I can turn off the television.

In an instant, Rodney will disappear and yoga class will be over.  Then there's always the potential that the tape will get eaten while it's rewinding…

I never thought I'd admit it but I miss you, Mary Ann Raughton Rickman.

My former yoga instructor is now a Roller Derby Queen!

www.StillSwimmingUpstream.com

THAT Woman

The lottery jackpot was $141 million dollars Saturday night and I'm pretty sure I've won.  If so, in addition to buying my friends Linda and Dave a lakefront home (as I promised them I'd do), and giving my hairdresser Doreatha the best tip she's ever had in her life (because she's THAT good), I'm gonna find someone with excellent taste to buy my clothes for me.  I tend to make bad garment choices so I could truly use professional guidance in this area of my life.

Earlier today I went to JC Penney because they are having a clearance sale on their summer merchandise.  To me this makes no sense at all.  Living east of Hell as I do, in my mind July is actually summer and so are August, September, October and a big slice of November too.  It appears to me that Penney's is getting rid of the lightweight stuff way, way too soon but I was armed with a 10% discount coupon and the sale/coupon combo is difficult to resist, even for me.

What treasure did I find on the sale rack?  A long-sleeved red tee-shirt that would be perfect to wear during the Christmas holidays.  It was marked $.97.  I asked the clerk if it was a pricing error and she assured me it was not.  She said, "This is really old.  It's from last winter." to which I (mentally) responded, "The newest stuff in my winter wardrobe is from last winter.  The oldest stuff is from when I was in sixth grade.  THAT is really old.  THIS is really new.  In fact, it's brand new.  New doesn't get any newer than that."

I bought the tee-shirt, and yes, I used my 10% off coupon.  I purchased an item that was under a dollar and I asked them to give me a ten-percent discount.  I'm THAT woman.

I am having a fabulous life!  I'm just not sure that winning all that lottery money is going to make my life that much better - but I've graciously decided I am willing to find out.  If South Carolina is a state where you can collect your winnings anonymously, then you will never even know I won.   Unless, of course, Linda and Dave invite you to their housewarming party.