Day 86 Say NO to Sniffing!
We had a sniffer in class today. You know the kind. We’re all lying in Savasana, waiting for the class to start. The silence in the room is broken only by the soft trickle of the humidifiers and the occasional rustle of people adjusting their mats.
Then… sniff, sniff. Snork, snert, sniff.
Pause.
Sniff-sniff-sniff. Rapid-fire. Like a Beagle on scent. Not a productive sort of sniff, which although grosser, at least one can understand. This was the unnecessary nervous-tic sort of sniff. Or maybe it was the type of sniff you do when there’s a dry booger way up high that’s driving you nuts, but it won’t dislodge by blowing, so you try to suck it back up into your brain instead.
Personally, I think it was an attention-getting sniff. A cry for help, if you will.
A damp towel applied firmly over mouth and nose for a few minutes, I thought. That would help.
I had to grip onto my inner peace with both fists, I tell you, because that’s the sort of thing to drive me right postal. I lifted my head to see if I could identify the culprit. (Why? What difference would it make? Would I really attack her with my towel? I have no answers…)
Snerkle-sniff.
Breathe-in. Breathe-out. Do not sit up and yell, “For God’s sake, get a tissue!”
What is it with people who do things like this? (The sniffer I mean, not me, the psycho-reactor.) Are they completely unaware of the fact that they are making the only – and certainly the most unpleasant – sound in the room? Are they deaf?
Perhaps I have nasal-mucous issues, I’m willing to admit the possibility. After all, I grew up blocking out the sound of my dad gargling on his own post-nasal drip, and still gag at the thought.
Sniff-sniff.
So, okay, maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the only one getting irritated. Big picture, let it go, don’t sweat the small sniffs…
Then the woman next to me let out an overly deep breath. And another one cleared her throat, rather deliberately.
Coincidence? Maybe. The class started then, effectively shutting down the sniffer, so we’ll never know.
But I choose to believe that I’m not alone with my sniff-issues.
Day 83 A Loophole!
I’m in the homestretch of my 90-Day Bikram Yoga challenge and recently learned that day 90 will fall on next Saturday, when I’m scheduled to be at a writers’ workshop in Vancouver. All day.
Double-class days are no fun, as I’ve mentioned before. So what do I do? Wave the white flag of defeat? (as opposed to the white towel of Canuck-fever… I’m waving that one wildly!) No. I’m in this for 90 days.
So I checked my calendar, to see exactly how much yoga I’d been doing before the challenge officially started… and I practiced nine days in February, including Feb. 13, which means I started a day early! Which means I’m actually on day 84 today!
Ha-HA 90-Day Challenge. Take that.
Day 82 Seriously. Turn Down the HEAT.
This is the third day in a row that I’ve skipped the last few postures. Is the thermostat broken, people? I’m not a rank beginner, but I’ve been feeling a little wibbly around the edges in the hot room. Nauseated. Black spots floating in my peripheral vision.
Beginners have been fleeing like lemmings, soggy, desperate rodents repenting their mad scramble onto the Bikram bandwagon. Honestly, right now I’m afraid to invite anyone to try it. It’s not fun. It’s scary.
“Have you been feeling it too?” asked Sharon, pounding down a bit more water before class started this morning. “I thought it was just me.”
“It’s not just you,” I assured her. “It’s been way hotter than usual.”
We chatted a bit about why we put ourselves through this, and naturally, the subject of hot flashes came up.
“Do you have menopause?” Jaspreet asked me. As if it was a disease.
I nodded glumly.
She’s one of those slightly… off… people. Friendly, but not quite right. (The kind my daughter says are drawn to me. I’m beginning to believe her.) Every time I’ve been the 9:15 am class, Jaspreet’s been there, in the far corner, same exact spot on the floor. She’s not athletic-looking and spends a lot of time looking out the window instead of doing the postures. The instructors sort of ignore her. I think they’ve given up.
“Oh!” Jaspreet looked as if a lightbulb went on inside her head. Which I imagine is a novel experience for her. “That’s why it looks like there’s water on you sometimes.”
Mercifully, the conversation ended there, as our torture session began again.
Yup, that’s me, I thought, as my pores started gushing.
The sweaty one.