Knock Knock
While I realize that it’s not very nice to make fun of someone else’s religion, it’s also not very nice to knock on someone’s door before 9 am to chat about it, either.
SB and I noticed a few things about the religious shwag they left behind. Isn’t Jesus looking a lot more clean cut these days? Less like the hippie he was, perhaps? He looks more like, say, a chiropractor or a college professor here.
I’m going to hell -1
Originally uploaded by picture_ho.
And what about Adam? DAMN! Dude is ripped!
I’m going to hell – 2
Originally uploaded by picture_ho.
Can you read the text accompanying the picture? It says, “After the final test, in what sense will mankind be comparable to Adam?”
SB is hoping in body fat percentage.
Posted by Jenny @
9:05 am |
A bad day at yoga.
I have been trying to find some kind of exercise that I enjoy. I LOVE to walk, I could walk all day, but I sort of need a destination. The (only) thing that kicked ass about j-o-b was the 35 minute walk to and fro. I got to be super fit without even trying or making time in my schedule. Now that I’m working from home, I have to figure something else out. I have a Y membership, but I’m super picky about instructors*, meaning the treadmill and the elliptical are my only option. I love the work out buzz, so I can happily tread and ellipt, but they do get a little boring.
Yesterday I tried something new and LOVED. IT. I had driven by this yoga place many times but had never stopped in. I finally went to their website and learned that it is Bikram yoga, which means you do it in a room heated to eleventy million degrees. I like heat and I like to sweat so I figured I would give it a try.
I could NOT BELIEVE how sweaty I got. I am not much of a sweater, but my hair was soaked and I could ring sweat out of my clothes by the end. I felt AMAZING all day yesterday. It was similar to other yoga I have done, just hotter, so your body feels more warmed up and more limber. The teacher was a man with a nice voice who led the class with care and energy. He even said, “very good, Jenny,” a couple of times. I left there yesterday thinking I had found the fitness answer! Yay!
Since I now knew I liked it, I went out and bought yoga outfits suitable for public. I realized that I normally do yoga in my living room in shorts and a sports bra, which would show a little to much cleavage and crack for public downward dogging. Dressed in my snazzy new duds, all black of course for the slimming-ness and sweat hiding factor, I cheerfully arrived at class today to see a different teacher, a tiny lady in her 40’s with a Polish accent named Yohanna.
About 30 minutes into the class, I was just reaching my happy zen place when Yohanna, in her loud, class leading voice goes, “…and stretch forward, backs straight…Jenny you need to leave and go wash your feet”
OH.
MY.
GOD.
Picture it. The whole class is still, holding a pose, and I have to leave and GO WASH MY FEET. At first I didn’t even think she was talking to me, afterall, there were probably 17 other Jennys in the class. As I left, all zen happiness was totally banished, my skin was crawling with embarrassment, and I could feel the tears starting to well, even though that was even MORE embarrassing.
Let me be clear. I have a bit of a foot aversion. I don’t even like my own feet. Because of this, I get pedicures about twice a month. I shower regularily. MY FEET WEREN’T DIRTY. It is, however, summertime, and I do walk around barefoot quite a lot, so PERHAPS the small callousy bits I have aquired since my last pedicure, LAST WEEK may be a little stained. MAY.
So there I am in the bathroom, rubbing a cold, wet paper towel on my callouses, knowing that it isn’t going to help, when the tears come. I was SO embarrassed. I know it wasn’t that big of a deal, but I HATE being singled out like that. And for a personal hygeine issue? OH MY GOD. I get embarrassed when an instructor corrects my form, even. Unless I’m going to hurt myself, leave me alone, you know? I’d pretty much decided I was out of there, fuck my yoga mat and water bottle, when she came out of the class to talk to me. !!! The class is waiting for me now!? For dirty feet girl!? I promise her that my feet are as clean as they are going to get, she advises scrubbing them (!!!), and we return to class.
With a tight chest and lots of shame, I finished the work out. The class ends of course with the hishdoshhandroshanosh, the laying on the floor and breathing. As I laid there, I started to feel less ashamed and more pissed off. Fuck her! First of all, my feet are not dirty! Secondly, if she HAD to make me leave and go wash them, she could have come up to me and whispered her request, she didn’t have to annouce to the whole class that JENNY IS DIRTY. Thirdly, she could have fucking endured my filth for the rest of the class and said something to me afterward so as not to disrupt my focus.
I kept breathing until I felt calm again, and tried to make as quick an exit as possible, but of course she stopped me. She started in on how she did not mean to embarrass me and there are signs posted all over over about clean feet being required, blah blah blah.
Then I cut her off and told that yeah, well, she did embarrass me. It was really hard to focus on my workout for the rest of the class after being publicly called out over a personal hygeine issue. I don’t know whatever else I said, but I left feeling like I had told her off good, with out being mean.
I still love that yoga place. I just hope I get other teachers more often than her. And I suppose I will have to get up extra early now and scrub my feet. Awesome. All I needed was another complex.
August 2006 143
Originally uploaded by picture_ho.
* Not too cheerful, not too repetitive, sufficiently ass kicking…
Posted by Jenny @
4:22 pm |
