Some of my friends could be classified as ‘Sporty Spices.’ (Kara and Megan, I’m definitely talking about you).
For weeks, these babes have been begging me to come to their weekly Sunday night hot yoga date, and I have been full of excuses. Being sick is a legitimate excuse, so I’m fine with that one, but my other excuses -my sheer laziness- are lame and sad. So when they invited me this week, I said yes, and offered to drive everyone, so that I couldn’t back out later.
I had been to this yoga studio (once) before, but not for hot yoga. I showed up with my mat, and nothing else. My wise friends had backpacks and gym bags full of extra clothes and towels.
I got there, and I didn’t really know what to expect. We went to the change rooms, and my friends switched into their workout tops and got dressed while I stood there and pretended to check the nonexistent notifications on my phone.
When we went into the actual yoga room, the heat hit me in the face. We set our mats down, and started stretching. It wasn’t just hot, it was also a little bit humid, which was gross.
The teacher started, and music played in the background- she was playing covers of pop songs, which aren’t really yoga-y songs, so that was a little bit off-putting.
As we went through the movements (called the “flow”) the teacher reminded us that there is no judgment in yoga, that no one cares what you look like or what you’re doing. I was dripping sweat onto my mat, wiping it from my eyes, and I looked like I had entered a wet t-shirt contest.
I don’t really like to sweat, so I was surprised at how much I enjoyed hot yoga. I have big boobs; so intense cardio is also not my favorite thing in the world. The next day, my whole body was sore, and I was impressed. This hourlong, semi-intense workout made my whole body sore, and I loved that. I’m definitely going to be going to hot yoga again- with a towel this time, cause I learn from my mistakes- and I can’t wait.