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Thursday, March 17, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Time To Celebrate! Watermelon Cocktails All Around!
This is me doing a perfect bow pulling pose on a rock at a beautiful and serene lake on day 15!. Well. It could be me. Ok. Fine. This is going to be me. In another 45 days! I made it to day 15! I'm 1/4 of the way there!
So, the cold hard facts. I have lost 3 pounds. Not that amazing. What is amazing is my measurements. I took my measurements today I have lost a total of 6 and a half inches. I took the measurements from various parts of my body and I have lost an inch to two inches everywhere. Hips, thighs, waist, arms and chest. In 15 days! An nice little perk of this journey I am on.
I had a truly empowering femi-yoga class on Thursday morning. It was all women in the class so our motivational speeches from the instructor were directed toward being a strong, powerful, beautiful, sexy woman. I've gotta say that femi-yoga was exactly what I needed. It was a nice little sisterhood on a Thursday morning.
This raises an interesting question. Someone asked me about the percentage of women to men in yoga class. I initially responded that it was equal (the femi-yoga class was an anomaly). But I looked around today and I may be wrong. It may be that women far outnumber the men. I wonder why? I was then asked if I get hit on at yoga class. Of course I don't get hit on at yoga class! What a ridiculous question. I think this person imagines hot yoga as a room full of singles in hardly any clothes just kind of hanging out and flirting. I'm really amazed and how many people have no clue what this Bikram Yoga thing is all about. It's not about flirting. Although I'm sure when I leave that room I look like every man's dream. Sure Gino, the soup guy is pretty cute. And there is the guy with the adorable dogs. But really, I haven't paid much attention and that is not why I'm there. I don't think people go to yoga to meet someone. We go to yoga to meet ourselves.
The yoga meltdowns are starting to become less frequent. Les Miserables was on again so there was that. But otherwise I've been pretty melt down free this week. I have been focused, engaged, interesting, funny, smart and almost, dare I say it, happy this week. A new associate I am working with told me that she appreciated my "wisdom and insight". I actually had wisdom and insight! At the same time! And someone, other than me, noticed it! Ok. That made me cry too. But still it is all good crying!
I also cried at Taylor's school orchestra concert today but I always cry at those. I'm just so proud that my child can do something so well. Something I don't think I could ever do! That is definitely a time for happy crying. The thing I don't understand is why I'm the only parent in the entire school gym who cries at the orchestra concerts. Maybe it's because they have to herd the rest of their kids while the concert is going on. Maybe they have older kids and have sat through 700 of these things before. Maybe they are mad at their husbands and don't want to have to be sitting next to them. Maybe I am especially lucky. At times like this I feel like being a single mom to an only child is a luxury. I get to devote myself to my son and enjoy every second of every proud parent moment without any distractions.
So with that... I'm off to celebrate day 15 with a little online shopping and a watermelon cocktail. Namaste.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Love What You Love and Wear a Cute Hat
The following may have taken place between 8:30 pm and 10:30 pm. One friend may have been in a bedroom in Southwest Reno. Other friend may have been in a bedroom in Northwest Reno. Both friends may have been watching Les Miserables coincidentally for the second time that week. Both alone on a Thursday night except for one little boy each. One little boy asleep. One little boy tuned out with his ipod. Both friends with smart phones. Neither friend afraid to use them. This may or may not be how the conversation went. This may or may not have actually happened...
Friend 1 ("F1"): Les Miserables anniversary special on PBS right now.
Friend 2 ("F2"): I know.
F1: This Javert is freakin' beautiful. Here he goes. "Ahhhhh fallen from grace."
F2: He is beautiful and his songs are awesome. We are so lame!
F2: This Jean Valjean is hot too.
F1: Yes. We are lame. But it is wonderful.
F2: It is wonderful.
F1: Who is Marius's friend? I love him.
F2: I don't know his name but I love him too. I may remember it soon.
F2: I love the red flag...can't wait.
F1: Dork, dork, dork.
F1: "Whisper away waiting for me. Does he see what I see?"
F2: Those have got to be fake eyelashes, right?
F1: No. Can't be.
F2: Poor Eponine.
F1: Not right. Always like her better.
F2: Me too. Everyone does except stupid Marius.
F1: Ugh . So unfair.
F2: Life should be a musical. There isn't enough singing during the day.
F1: "He was never mine to lose... Not to me not to me."
F2: Ugh. Look at that poor girl.
F2: Stupid Marius.
F1 : Totally. His friend forever and then drops her for some blond...didn't even know her name.
F2: Stupid men.
F1 : Yup. Except for Javert. We know what to expect from him...he's just obsessed and lost.
F1: One Day More!
F2: Favorite Part!
F2: I love her hat.
F1: (to Marius) You just met her, you CAN be parted. What about your childhood friend @#$*head?
F2: Now this is the guy I like. Not a girl like Marius.
F1: Totally. Marius, You are in a war for God Sake. Focus.
F1: FLAGS!
F2: That's what I'm talkin' about! It's all about the flags! And Eponine's hat.
F1: I want to have a girl and name her Eponine.
F2: I want to get two puppies and name them Jean Valjean and Javert.
F1: You could get them sweaters!
F2: Stupid Marius, again!
F1: So stupid.
F2: Stupid men.
F1: My sooong.... Kleenex please.
F2: Your song? I've lived this stupid song!
F1: So funny! Only yours goes, "and I'm texting to myself and not to him." Hahahahahaha...
F1: I mean... it's not that funny.
F1: "He is gone...and the Truckee's just a river..." Hahahahaha....
F2: That hat is just so freakin' cute. If I had that hat I wouldn't have these problems.
F1: True. It's a great hat.
F2: Phone dying. Love you.
F1: I have be alone for the finale anyway. Love you too.
Now, I am the first to admit that loving Broadway musicals may seem pretty lame. But it's like Richard Gere told Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman about the Opera. You either love the opera immediately or you don't. If you don't you can learn to appreciate it but you will never love it. It will never be part of you. Or something along those lines. I think Broadway is the same way. You either totally love it or you don't. I'm sad for the people who don't because it is just so great!
The Happiness Project says you have to love what you love. Not what everyone else loves. What you love. And you should love what you love passionately. And if you are lucky enough to have a best friend that loves what you love too...it makes it that much better. Love you!
P.S. Speaking of loving what you love...Day 14 down!
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
It's not bad crying...it's good crying.
Today I completed day 12 of my yoga challenge. In two more days I will be one quarter of the way through my 60 day challenge. Can you believe it? I am truly amazed at what you can accomplish when you just take it one day at a time.
Today's class was taught by one of my favorite instructors. The instructors are all absolutely fantastic and I adore them all but Barry - he is a legendary. His class is literally, standing room only. He has this amazing energy. Almost an aura. And he is a yoga hard ass. No bent knee goes unnoticed. However, despite the fact that Barry is one of my favorite teachers I actually avoid his Wednesday classes because they are so full of people.
Now the reason I was at Barry's class is because I lost all control of my week. I have carefully tried to schedule the yoga classes so I won't have any excuse to miss them. I had this nice little schedule that I mapped out on Monday but my schedule has not worked. This week requires me to be both Caryn the Super-Lawyer and Caryn the Super-Mom. These weeks are particularly challenging. I am juggling work appointments and "Taylor" appointments all week. On a normal week, I would have let yoga pass and just not made it down there at all. I would have written this week off as a week I just have to get through. But when I'm on a Challenge, I'm on a Challenge!
So you are probably wondering how it is going. Here is a quick update.
The most noticeable progress I have made is that I think I am actually starting to glow. People have commented on it. My skin is feeling amazing. Normally I have times when I can't stand being in my own skin because it feels too tight for me. It's hard to explain the feeling but there are days that I feel like if I could take off my skin I would. It's this absolutely miserable and depressing feeling. Well, my friends, I am not experiencing that feeling anymore. This in and of itself is worth the price of admission to the Bikram Yoga Challenge.
My yoga meltdowns continue but they aren't overwhelming meltdowns. They are good meltdowns. I just cry more. I cried, no I sobbed, at the 25th Anniversary of Les Miserables on PBS on Sunday night. I cried at my friend Marj's video birthday card to her husband that she posted on Facebook on his birthday. I don't even know him. I cried at a particularly cheesy moment in The Hangover, which I have seen at least seven times. Yes, that is right, I cried in The Hangover. I cried when I read the list of available Golden Retrievers in the Homeward Bound Golden Retriever Rescue Newsletter. Yes, I'm actually considering adopting another one. And I cried when I overheard Taylor telling the assistant at his orthodontist appointment about the Linkin Park concert and our exciting night out in Vegas. Needless to say, I cry a regular basis. But the amazing thing is I haven't cried at things like this for a really long time. This is good crying. I get accused often of being cold hearted. I think this kind of crying means my cold, frozen heart seems to be melting.
I have only actually cried once in yoga class. Jenn, an adorable Tinkerbelle-esq instructor, just competed in the National Yoga Championships. She was telling her story to our class and she started to cry which made me start to cry. Again...it was good crying. And I don't think anyone knew I was crying because it's hard to know if someone is wiping tears out of their eyes or sweat out of their eyes. The yoga room actually is a pretty safe cry zone.
I haven't taken my measurements yet. I have decided to wait until day 15. The 1/4 way point. But here is another amazing thing. I'm not sure I care what they are. My jeans are getting loose. I know that. But I really feel like this is having so many benefits for me in other ways, that for once in my life, the goal of this kind of time commitment is not to lose weight. I am eating better but it's not a conscious effort. It's because only healthy food tastes right to me. I haven't wanted coffee since about 2 days into the challenge. I haven't had a cupcake since day 3. I bought some candy at the movie last weekend but only ate a few because they just didn't taste that good. I threw away a box that still had candy left in it. 13 days ago that was unthinkable to me.
So that's the update. I know I sound crazy...like maybe I drank the Bikram Poison Coconut Kool-Aid. But for whatever reason. It seems to be working.
Today's class was taught by one of my favorite instructors. The instructors are all absolutely fantastic and I adore them all but Barry - he is a legendary. His class is literally, standing room only. He has this amazing energy. Almost an aura. And he is a yoga hard ass. No bent knee goes unnoticed. However, despite the fact that Barry is one of my favorite teachers I actually avoid his Wednesday classes because they are so full of people.
Now the reason I was at Barry's class is because I lost all control of my week. I have carefully tried to schedule the yoga classes so I won't have any excuse to miss them. I had this nice little schedule that I mapped out on Monday but my schedule has not worked. This week requires me to be both Caryn the Super-Lawyer and Caryn the Super-Mom. These weeks are particularly challenging. I am juggling work appointments and "Taylor" appointments all week. On a normal week, I would have let yoga pass and just not made it down there at all. I would have written this week off as a week I just have to get through. But when I'm on a Challenge, I'm on a Challenge!
So you are probably wondering how it is going. Here is a quick update.
The most noticeable progress I have made is that I think I am actually starting to glow. People have commented on it. My skin is feeling amazing. Normally I have times when I can't stand being in my own skin because it feels too tight for me. It's hard to explain the feeling but there are days that I feel like if I could take off my skin I would. It's this absolutely miserable and depressing feeling. Well, my friends, I am not experiencing that feeling anymore. This in and of itself is worth the price of admission to the Bikram Yoga Challenge.
My yoga meltdowns continue but they aren't overwhelming meltdowns. They are good meltdowns. I just cry more. I cried, no I sobbed, at the 25th Anniversary of Les Miserables on PBS on Sunday night. I cried at my friend Marj's video birthday card to her husband that she posted on Facebook on his birthday. I don't even know him. I cried at a particularly cheesy moment in The Hangover, which I have seen at least seven times. Yes, that is right, I cried in The Hangover. I cried when I read the list of available Golden Retrievers in the Homeward Bound Golden Retriever Rescue Newsletter. Yes, I'm actually considering adopting another one. And I cried when I overheard Taylor telling the assistant at his orthodontist appointment about the Linkin Park concert and our exciting night out in Vegas. Needless to say, I cry a regular basis. But the amazing thing is I haven't cried at things like this for a really long time. This is good crying. I get accused often of being cold hearted. I think this kind of crying means my cold, frozen heart seems to be melting.
I have only actually cried once in yoga class. Jenn, an adorable Tinkerbelle-esq instructor, just competed in the National Yoga Championships. She was telling her story to our class and she started to cry which made me start to cry. Again...it was good crying. And I don't think anyone knew I was crying because it's hard to know if someone is wiping tears out of their eyes or sweat out of their eyes. The yoga room actually is a pretty safe cry zone.
I haven't taken my measurements yet. I have decided to wait until day 15. The 1/4 way point. But here is another amazing thing. I'm not sure I care what they are. My jeans are getting loose. I know that. But I really feel like this is having so many benefits for me in other ways, that for once in my life, the goal of this kind of time commitment is not to lose weight. I am eating better but it's not a conscious effort. It's because only healthy food tastes right to me. I haven't wanted coffee since about 2 days into the challenge. I haven't had a cupcake since day 3. I bought some candy at the movie last weekend but only ate a few because they just didn't taste that good. I threw away a box that still had candy left in it. 13 days ago that was unthinkable to me.
So that's the update. I know I sound crazy...like maybe I drank the Bikram Poison Coconut Kool-Aid. But for whatever reason. It seems to be working.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Yoga Meltdowns...Didn't see those coming.
Lessons learned so far in the Bikram Yoga 60 day Challenge:
1. If I don't replace my electrolytes I start to cry. I have been getting a little weepy after I get home from class for no apparent reason. I think I need to make a more conscious effort to do a little electrolyte replacement right after class. You would think that I would know this after being a runner for so many years. I'm drinking plenty of water but very little else. It's funny but certain things just don't sound good now. Gatorade is one of them, too sweet. Ack. I know there are other options. Coconut juice is yummy. And I actually created a yoga cocktail of 3/4 sparkling water and 1/4 watermelon juice. Yum! I put it in a wine glass just because. I am going to try drinking a coconut water right after class and see if that helps with the waterworks.
2. Bikram yoga may be better than therapy. If I can't stop crying, I will go on to theory number two. It may be that my electrolytes are fine. It may be that I am literally sweating out heartache from my life. I think there is a song in there somewhere. I have a fair amount of pain that I have suppressed over the years. Everything from feelings of guilt that I gave birth to a special needs child. My ongoing heartache for him that keeps coming up now that he has reached middle school and is struggling to figure out where he fits in with his differences. The buried hurt of rejection from men I thought I loved. The resentment I have towards my mentors who have left me alone at my law firm while they go fulfill their goals and dreams. Selfish, selfish, selfish. I think I may actually be sweating this crap out of me. Is that possible? I have actually read in blogs from other people crazy enough to undertake the 60 day challenge that Bikram yoga meltdowns are not that uncommon. Apparently, the yoga stirs up a lot of toxins, including emotional toxins that may have been sitting in the bottom of your broken heart for decades. Well, I didn't exactly read that...but that is kind of my interpretation of it. I have read that the Birkram yoga meltdowns pass and you are fine after a week or two. Hopefully that is true. And hopefully I really am going to be able to leave some of this stuff on the mat. I know this sounds a little new-agy for me. I'm really not a new age kind of girl. For now I'm going with the electrolyte theory but I am aware that something else maybe going on here.
3. Never underestimate the power of appropriate yoga shorts. As I think I have established, I have an assortment of very cute, very functional yoga shorts and capris. Others, I have learned through observation, do not. I can't understand this because there are so many adorable hot yoga clothes out there. I have had to put myself on shopping restriction. This seems especially true with regard to the men. No real surprise there I guess. Now, I get that men aren't always the best at fashion coordination. Especially when it comes to sports. However, wearing simply your boxer shorts is just wrong. I'm not entirely sure it is even legal. I almost think these guys are facing potnential liability negligence and emotional distress. Especially when boxer short guy decides to stand in the front row. Bow pulling pose? boxer shorts? Gross, gross, gross. Similarly, simply wearing underwear is equally traumatic for the rest of us. There are very appropriate men's yoga shorts. Sure they are tight and whatever...but it's really better than the boxer/underwear option. And when in doubt, there is nothing wrong with a good pair of board shorts. I may start a new charity to provide appropriate yoga shorts to those unfortunate enough to not have the fashion sense, or common sense, to wear something appropriate. Kind of like a Coats for Kids kind of thing.
4. Triangle is better when I sing Broadway musicals in my head. So is standing head to knee, bow pulling pose and that awful one where you have to choke your throat. I know I said I was going to try to not think in the yoga room but I'm not sure Broadway musicals count as thinking. I'm going to try to avoid Les Miserables though until the above-mentioned Bikram Yoga meltdowns pass. Eponine and I have a little too much in common (well not exactly...That's a little dramatic). But, I should probably avoid Miss Saigon too. Going to stick with Rock of Ages for now.
Lessons yet to be learned in the Bikram Yoga 60 day Challenge:
1. What the f*%# is a Japanese Ham Sandwich?
On to day 10!
Saturday, March 5, 2011
The X-boyfriend Files. Early Lessons in Love and Shopping.
When I was 16, I fell in love. Not just in love, in Romeo and Juliet love. In Luke and Laura love. In Danny and Sandy love. In Edward and Bella love. In obsessive, dramatic, sick-to-your-stomach, teen aged love. The object of my affections was named Herbert (the names have been changed to protect the innocent.)
Herbert was a year a head of me. He had blond hair. He had beautiful blue eyes. He played tennis. He was preppy. He had his own car (a red GTI). I have no recollection of how we met. I can’t really even remember if we dated my sophomore year or my junior year. I think it must have been my junior year but that just doesn’t seem right. We went to the winter dance. We went to a few movies. We hung out. I think we played tennis. All in all our relationship could not have lasted more than 3 or 4 weeks. But that was enough for me. I was in completely, irrevocably in love with Herbert.
So what does a teenage girl in obsessive, dramatic, sick-to-your-stomach love do? I professed my love to him. Duh? I still remember the exact moment and the horrified look on his face. I thought that he would profess his love back to me. Why wouldn’t he? I was a cute 16 year-old with a convertible. I thought we would probably get married. We would live in a cute little house in Ukiah and I could look at him every day. Maybe we would get a puppy. Maybe even a kitten. What did normal teenage boy do? He bolted! Of course he bolted. What 16 year old boy wouldn’t bolt?
What ensued was at least a year of obsessive, dramatic, sick-to-my-stomach pining for Herbert. As with all great tragedies, the year was filled with one humiliation after another. The humiliation culminated where all great high school humiliation culminates. The prom. Herbert took another girl to the prom. And as a special form of cruelty, the kind that only exists in high school, Herbert’s prom date wore the exact same dress as I did at the prom. The exact same dress. Looking back the dress was cuter-than-cute and clearly showed excellent taste on the part of Herbert’s date. My 16 year old self didn't see it that way. I ran to my locker alone and burst into tears. I later pulled myself together and did what every humiliated, broken-hearted, teen-aged girl would do; I got by with a little help from my friends. My new friends Bartles and James that is. I had not met these two wonderful men before but I quickly learned that they were the best friends a 16 year old girl with mass produced prom dress could ever have.
I recovered from the prom but did not give up on Herbert. I fully expected him to see the tragic and ruinous mistake he had made and profess his love to me. Every time the phone rang, I knew it was going to be him. Of course, it never was. Herbert went off to college the next year. I faithfully wrote him letters and held out hope. He would certainly miss me and be terribly lonely as an adorable freshman guy at the number one party school in the country. Right? He had to have been thinking about me every minute of every day. I just knew this time apart would make him come to his senses. I waited expectantly for him to come home at Thanksgiving break only to be heartbroken. Again. Herbert did not return home to me but instead yet another cute 16 year old girl with a convertible. I will say one thing for Herbert; he had fantastic taste in 16 year old girls.
Eventually I got over Herbert. I quit listening to stupid Depeche Mode songs in the dark. I quit drowning my sorrows with Bartles and James. I picked up the pieces and moved on. I don’t know when, I don’t know how, but I did.
Looking back, my expectations were obviously unrealistic. Sixteen year old boys are, well 16 year old boys. But give me a break. I went to private school for middle school so I didn’t have that brutal crash course how to deal with the male of the species. I was unsophisticated. My training in love and the male species consisted of an unhealthy amount of Danielle Steele novels that I stole from my mother, countless hours of soap operas watched with my grandmother, and Charles and Diana’s wedding.
I thought love was always supposed to be reciprocated. To me, it was simple, if you loved someone, they would love you back. You would survive a series of tragedies and always find your way back to one another. When I got kidnapped by evil Niko Casadine, Herbert would save me. When my barn full of horses and kittens burned down, Herbert would rescue the horses and kittens and build me a new one. When I got stuck on the top of a snow-covered mountain in my cute puffy parka; Herbert would carry me down on his skis safely to the romantic lodge. It never once occurred to me, at age 16, that you could say “I love you” and not hear "I love you too."
So what is my point? Obviously, my point is never purchase a mass produced prom dress.
What is my other point? I do not regret professing my love to Herbert. The simple fact is I did love him. I really, really did. But it was 16 year old love. I would like to think that this kind of teenage love still happens in your 40s but it probably doesn’t. And let’s face it that is probably a good thing. Obsessive, dramatic, stomach-ache love is really truly miserable. As a grown up, I don’t think I would survive it. However, I think there is something to be said for the innocence of that Danielle Steele trained 16 year old girl. I am proud of her for saying what was in her heart.
Here’s to hoping. Here’s to being brave enough at age 16 to tell a boy how you feel. Here’s to being brave enough at any age to tell a boy how you feel. And, here’s to Herbert…wherever he is.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
60 classes. 60 days. 60 outfits.
60 classes in 60 days certainly requires 60 yoga outfits. I have decided to commit to the Bikram Yoga 60 day challenge. The 60 day challenge requires you to do 60 Bikram yoga classes in 60 days. 60 consecutive days. I have mentioned before that I have enough challenges in my life and that now is perhaps not the time to undertake the daunting task of 60 days of Bikram Yoga in a row. 60 days. That is 90 hours. 5,400 minutes. That is a lot of time on the mat. But I've never really been one to back down from a challenge.
Believe it or not this wasn’t an impulsive decision like my first marathon, or my first marriage for that matter. This wasn’t one of my infamous if-it-is-meant-to-be-I-will-get-a-good-score- without-studying decision, like the LSAT, and arguably law school as a whole. I actually really thought the 60 day challenge through and really carefully considered what challenges I would face in accomplishing this goal.
The obvious challenge is the time commitment. A Bikram yoga class is 90 minutes long. That is from first breathing exercise to final savasana. That time does not take into account travel time to and from the studio, the time it takes to acclimate to the heat before class, and the time it takes to recover enough to stand up without passing out or throwing up at the end of class. All in all it is more like a 2 and half hour experience (depending on where you live). I absolutely have the kind of job that can derail these sorts of challenges. But, I looked at my schedule and low and behold I have no travel commitments for the next 60 days. I have no trials for the next 60 days. And with the first class at 6 am and the final class at 8:30 pm most days, even if I have a work day that gets completely out of control, there is no reason I can’t make one of these classes. I may have to give up an evening of the Bachelor but would that really be a bad thing? And I can always sneak my blackberry into class with me and respond to work email during savasana when the instructor isn't looking if I get in a bind. So the time commitment is not a viable excuse.
Other than the time issue, I could not come up with a single excuse, or even reason, why I should not commit to this challenge and just see what happens. Apparently there is something magical about 60 days. I have heard that Bikram says “give me 60 days and I will give you a new life”. It has something to do with exponential benefits of consecutive days of practice. I’m sure there is some science behind it but I don't know what it is. It doesn't really matter to me. A new life sounds promising. I have heard that a 60 day challenge can be life changing. Stefan promised “a new body, new mind and new life.” If I end up with just one of those things I will be happy. The promise of all 3 is something that should be pursued.
Now, we all know I have a problem with unrealistic expectations so I have made a short list of things I hope to accomplish through this challenge. They are as follows:
1. A smaller body. I have taken my measurements and will take them every 10 days to see if I have tangible physical results. This isn’t really the most important thing me. More of an added benefit. I have sworn off the scale because I tend to get obsessed with those numbers. Scales make me a little psycho. A little OCD. Perhaps even evil at times. Instead, I am going to focus on the inches and not the scale and see what happens.
2. A yoga glow. My skin is dry and haggard and old. The yoga people, have a glow. They are like cute little fireflies. Like Tinkerbelles. It's probably because of all the water. For me, water is the new Chardonnay. I really, really want to glow.
3. “A place for my head”. One of my son’s favorite Linkin Park songs is called “a place for my head”. I am hoping for some mental benefits. I need some mental benefits. I need to give my mind a break. I find myself mid bow pulling pose thinking about a client that I forgot to call back. I find myself in cobra pose wondering if I remembered to pay the power bill. I wonder during the rabbit pose if Taylor remembered to turn in his book report. I have a very hard time quieting down the thoughts in my head. I'm going to just think about breathing and following the instructions for 90 minutes a day. I want this to be a good place for my head. I'm really going to work on this.
4. A straighter stronger spine. I have scoliosis. I have a desk job. I love high heels. Someone once told me that they had a friend whose philosophy was basically this; the day she gives up her high heels is the day she has given up on life entirely. True, true, true. However, the combination of these three things is starting to take their toll. I don't want to be hunched over later in life, I don't want surgery and I especially don't want to give up.
One exciting aspect of the challenge is that yoga items have now fall into the "essentials” category. I have purchased one super cute yoga top. One pair of new yoga shorts. I should point out that I wasn’t going to purchase yoga shorts but I found a pair at Lululemon. The color is called “unicorn tears”. This is such a great name for a color that the "unicorn tear" shorts somehow found their way into my life. "Unicorn Tears". It makes me feel both sad and happy at the same time. I also invested in one new pair of capri yoga pants. I generally wear the short shorts and just don’t care about the size of my thighs because of the heat. At Bikram yoga, we never judge our bodies. However, there are occasionally days when I find my thighs so revolting that I opt for capri pants instead of short shorts. Capri pants are the hot yoga equivalent of "boyfriend jeans". I am certain the people who are unfortunate enough to stand behind me are relieved on the days when I opt for capri pants. I am a little concerned because I chose green capri pants. As it turns out, Bikram hates green. Why does Bikram hate green? What does he do on St. Patrick's day? I hope it isn’t a bad omen that I chose green pants. I have also stocked the refrigerator with watermelon juice and coconut water…yoga’s version of Gatorade. I think I'm ready.
So with that I am off to day 6 of the 60 day yoga challenge.
Does anyone even read this? Is anyone out there?
Believe it or not this wasn’t an impulsive decision like my first marathon, or my first marriage for that matter. This wasn’t one of my infamous if-it-is-meant-to-be-I-will-get-a-good-score- without-studying decision, like the LSAT, and arguably law school as a whole. I actually really thought the 60 day challenge through and really carefully considered what challenges I would face in accomplishing this goal.
The obvious challenge is the time commitment. A Bikram yoga class is 90 minutes long. That is from first breathing exercise to final savasana. That time does not take into account travel time to and from the studio, the time it takes to acclimate to the heat before class, and the time it takes to recover enough to stand up without passing out or throwing up at the end of class. All in all it is more like a 2 and half hour experience (depending on where you live). I absolutely have the kind of job that can derail these sorts of challenges. But, I looked at my schedule and low and behold I have no travel commitments for the next 60 days. I have no trials for the next 60 days. And with the first class at 6 am and the final class at 8:30 pm most days, even if I have a work day that gets completely out of control, there is no reason I can’t make one of these classes. I may have to give up an evening of the Bachelor but would that really be a bad thing? And I can always sneak my blackberry into class with me and respond to work email during savasana when the instructor isn't looking if I get in a bind. So the time commitment is not a viable excuse.
Other than the time issue, I could not come up with a single excuse, or even reason, why I should not commit to this challenge and just see what happens. Apparently there is something magical about 60 days. I have heard that Bikram says “give me 60 days and I will give you a new life”. It has something to do with exponential benefits of consecutive days of practice. I’m sure there is some science behind it but I don't know what it is. It doesn't really matter to me. A new life sounds promising. I have heard that a 60 day challenge can be life changing. Stefan promised “a new body, new mind and new life.” If I end up with just one of those things I will be happy. The promise of all 3 is something that should be pursued.
Now, we all know I have a problem with unrealistic expectations so I have made a short list of things I hope to accomplish through this challenge. They are as follows:
1. A smaller body. I have taken my measurements and will take them every 10 days to see if I have tangible physical results. This isn’t really the most important thing me. More of an added benefit. I have sworn off the scale because I tend to get obsessed with those numbers. Scales make me a little psycho. A little OCD. Perhaps even evil at times. Instead, I am going to focus on the inches and not the scale and see what happens.
2. A yoga glow. My skin is dry and haggard and old. The yoga people, have a glow. They are like cute little fireflies. Like Tinkerbelles. It's probably because of all the water. For me, water is the new Chardonnay. I really, really want to glow.
3. “A place for my head”. One of my son’s favorite Linkin Park songs is called “a place for my head”. I am hoping for some mental benefits. I need some mental benefits. I need to give my mind a break. I find myself mid bow pulling pose thinking about a client that I forgot to call back. I find myself in cobra pose wondering if I remembered to pay the power bill. I wonder during the rabbit pose if Taylor remembered to turn in his book report. I have a very hard time quieting down the thoughts in my head. I'm going to just think about breathing and following the instructions for 90 minutes a day. I want this to be a good place for my head. I'm really going to work on this.
4. A straighter stronger spine. I have scoliosis. I have a desk job. I love high heels. Someone once told me that they had a friend whose philosophy was basically this; the day she gives up her high heels is the day she has given up on life entirely. True, true, true. However, the combination of these three things is starting to take their toll. I don't want to be hunched over later in life, I don't want surgery and I especially don't want to give up.
One exciting aspect of the challenge is that yoga items have now fall into the "essentials” category. I have purchased one super cute yoga top. One pair of new yoga shorts. I should point out that I wasn’t going to purchase yoga shorts but I found a pair at Lululemon. The color is called “unicorn tears”. This is such a great name for a color that the "unicorn tear" shorts somehow found their way into my life. "Unicorn Tears". It makes me feel both sad and happy at the same time. I also invested in one new pair of capri yoga pants. I generally wear the short shorts and just don’t care about the size of my thighs because of the heat. At Bikram yoga, we never judge our bodies. However, there are occasionally days when I find my thighs so revolting that I opt for capri pants instead of short shorts. Capri pants are the hot yoga equivalent of "boyfriend jeans". I am certain the people who are unfortunate enough to stand behind me are relieved on the days when I opt for capri pants. I am a little concerned because I chose green capri pants. As it turns out, Bikram hates green. Why does Bikram hate green? What does he do on St. Patrick's day? I hope it isn’t a bad omen that I chose green pants. I have also stocked the refrigerator with watermelon juice and coconut water…yoga’s version of Gatorade. I think I'm ready.
So with that I am off to day 6 of the 60 day yoga challenge.
Does anyone even read this? Is anyone out there?
Sunday, February 20, 2011
"Yeah here we go for the hundredth time.."
It’s confession time. I bought a t-shirt. I didn’t need a t-shirt. It is not an essential t-shirt. There isn’t even a charitable giving exception to my t-shirt. But sometimes…you just need a t-shirt.
Last night I took Taylor to the much anticipated Linkin Park concert. Taylor loves Linkin Park. I have never met a kid who at age almost 13 loves music the way he does. And he loves Linkin Park. I’m pretty sure his exceptional taste in music comes from me. He can name every song and tell you exactly what number it is on every album. Meteora is his favorite for those of you who may question his sincerity and loyalty. I bought him tickets to the concert in Las Vegas for Christmas. He has been counting the days since then. And I have been holding my breath for two weeks. They had to cancel a series of shows because Chester Bennington was sick. In fact, this was their first show back and the show right before this one was in fact cancelled. I told Taylor as soon as they started canceling shows that there was a chance his show would get rescheduled. I could only imagine the heartbreak that would result if we missed this show. I wanted him to be prepared. Everyday he made me check Facebook at least 3 times to see if Chester was still sick. Luckily, they posted on Friday that “Vegas was a go”. Thank you, Chester. Really, really…Thank you!
I believe strongly in having the full concert experience when you are seeing your favorite band. Concert t-shirts are a must. I let Taylor pick out whatever tour t-shirt he wanted. Ok, Chester, while I love and adore you very much and am happy you feel better, $35 for a t-shirt? Really? Anyway, he found the one of his dreams and promptly put it on while we were still standing at the counter. He then looked at me and said, “Which one are you going to get? It’s Linkin Park”. There was clearly no way I wasn’t getting a t-shirt too. So, I picked out my own fabulous $35 t-shirt in spite of my no shopping for February resolution. I’m a complete failure! But I’m totally ok with it. Taylor was so happy that his happiness was contagious. Stupid as it sounds, I will cherish my Linkin Park t-shirt for years to come. I may even ultimately cherish it more than my 1987 U2 Joshua Tree t-shirt that I still have and love. It is amazing to have a truly happy kid. I think there is now a concert t-shirt exception. Chester, don't tell Bono. Ok?
Last night I took Taylor to the much anticipated Linkin Park concert. Taylor loves Linkin Park. I have never met a kid who at age almost 13 loves music the way he does. And he loves Linkin Park. I’m pretty sure his exceptional taste in music comes from me. He can name every song and tell you exactly what number it is on every album. Meteora is his favorite for those of you who may question his sincerity and loyalty. I bought him tickets to the concert in Las Vegas for Christmas. He has been counting the days since then. And I have been holding my breath for two weeks. They had to cancel a series of shows because Chester Bennington was sick. In fact, this was their first show back and the show right before this one was in fact cancelled. I told Taylor as soon as they started canceling shows that there was a chance his show would get rescheduled. I could only imagine the heartbreak that would result if we missed this show. I wanted him to be prepared. Everyday he made me check Facebook at least 3 times to see if Chester was still sick. Luckily, they posted on Friday that “Vegas was a go”. Thank you, Chester. Really, really…Thank you!
I believe strongly in having the full concert experience when you are seeing your favorite band. Concert t-shirts are a must. I let Taylor pick out whatever tour t-shirt he wanted. Ok, Chester, while I love and adore you very much and am happy you feel better, $35 for a t-shirt? Really? Anyway, he found the one of his dreams and promptly put it on while we were still standing at the counter. He then looked at me and said, “Which one are you going to get? It’s Linkin Park”. There was clearly no way I wasn’t getting a t-shirt too. So, I picked out my own fabulous $35 t-shirt in spite of my no shopping for February resolution. I’m a complete failure! But I’m totally ok with it. Taylor was so happy that his happiness was contagious. Stupid as it sounds, I will cherish my Linkin Park t-shirt for years to come. I may even ultimately cherish it more than my 1987 U2 Joshua Tree t-shirt that I still have and love. It is amazing to have a truly happy kid. I think there is now a concert t-shirt exception. Chester, don't tell Bono. Ok?
Now Chester, you guys were amazing and everything but next time maybe you could come a little closer to Reno. Going to Las Vegas is, in my opinion, a pain in the ass. It was a pain in the ass to get to the airport by 8 am the morning after the biggest snow storm of the year. It was a pain in the ass to go to Las Vegas, a place I truly despise. I honestly think that if anyone doubts that God is going to make it start raining again soon, all you really need to do is spend a Saturday night in Vegas. We should all be working on our arks. It was a pain in the ass to dodge the drunken idiots on the strip as we walked to the MGM from Treasure Island. Quite a hike, I might add. Did you know that you can get a daiquiri in a travel glass-like thing shaped like the Eiffel Tower? You can buy a strap too (probably because it is so big that it is really heavy) so you can wear your Eiffel Tower Daiquiri around your neck. At least every other drunken idiot was wearing an Eiffel Tower. It was a pain in the ass to have to give the “call girl” guy a lecture about handing out the number of “girls, girls, girls” to a 12 year old. The “call girl” guy assured me that he will be using better judgment in the future. It was a pain in the ass to have to fight through the people to see the half dead lions at the MGM. Does PETA not know about Las Vegas?
Chester, despite all of this complaining, you were so worth it! This concert meant the world to me. I needed Linkin Park for myself too. February has been rough on my heart. I’m not going to go into the gory details but trust me when I say this has been a hard month. I know time heals all things, but frankly, I need time to move a little faster.
I love music and I believe music has the ability to heal. I really do. And Linkin Park, well they have some serious insight into the human heart. I agree with them when they say, “I don’t want to be the one the battles always choose.” I know! I totally understand, Chester! I’m sick of being the one the battles always choose too. They are right when they say, “the hardest part of ending is starting again.” It is. The hardest part is picking up the pieces and “trying to figure out what it’s like moving on.” I know! Chester, you may be my soul mate. And I hope so much that they are right that even when you fall, even when you lose it all, “in the end it doesn’t even matter”. Chester, my soul mate, you had better be right about his one!
But you know what? Today it doesn't matter. All the heartache doesn’t even matter today. The drunken idiots and half dead lions don't even matter. The "call girl" guy, doesn't even matter. I have an ecstatic 12 year old, a post-concert high, and a “Thousand Suns 2010-11 World Tour” t-shirt. What’s better than that?
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Happy Valentine's Day Walt Disney
Today is Valentine’s Day. You would think that with my love of shopping and buying cute stuff that this holiday would be right up my alley. Not so. I find Valentine’s Day to typically be just one big disappointment. This is because I frankly suck at relationships and affairs of the heart. I share the majority of the blame for this. But I am not alone. There are others who have been instrumental in my relationship problems. In fact, there is one person in particular I blame. Walt Disney. Yes. That is right. I blame all things Disney for my absolutely unrealistic expectations when it comes to men and love.
My best friend once asked me if we could bring a class action suit against Disney. I have given it a lot of thought. I think there are grounds for it. There are certainly negligent misrepresentation claims. I think there are arguably claims for Negligence, Fraud, and maybe Breach of Implied Covenants or Warranties. The damages include emotional distress, pain and suffering, and lost wages (in the form of time spent daydreaming or unable to get out of bed from being dumped). I think it may be a stretch to argue that Disney has breached a fiduciary duty but maybe it could be argued. We do rely Disney, don’t we?
Disney teaches young girls that they should all want to be princesses or mermaids. After all, if you aren’t a beautiful princess or mermaid your only other option is evil witch, or ugly step-sister. Disney teaches us that some handsome man with a horse will show up in our hour of need and make our lives better. Disney teaches us that mice are actually our friends. That if you don’t talk at all it increases your chances of said handsome man with horse finding you absolutely irresistible. That if you meet said perfect guy at the ball, he will actually call you the next day. Not just call you, but track you down with your favorite, lost shoe. I do love the part about it all coming down to Cinderella’s shoes though. Those glass slippers are pretty cute.
I was thinking about my Disney class action suit today while I was working on a discovery plan. It occurred to me that maybe, instead of unrealistic expectations and sparkling dresses, relationships need early case conferences. You see, under Nevada law, when litigation is commenced, the parties are required to meet very early on to discuss the case. They talk about their witnesses, their documents, what discovery is needed, how long they anticipate the litigation will take, if they will need the help of expert witnesses. The potential range of damages is discussed. The parties sit down together and literally map a plan of how they will get this case to trial. It’s a road map for the course of the litigation.
I think I would benefit from this kind of planning when it comes to relationships. I mean, lets face it. I’m no Cinderella. My Snow White days are over. I’ve had my heart broken enough to know that I am under no illusions that you just see someone, fall in love, see fireworks, and hear harps and singing animals with sweet little voices. I also have no hope that Prince Charming will even remember to call the next day, much less bring back my favorite shoe that I may have left at his place. I have no illusions of happily ever after in a castle. In fact it is those ideas that have led to a lot of my problems. A more practical approach, a more business like approach, is necessary and appropriate.
Relationships need discovery plans. From here on out I think that before I even consider dating Prince Charming, he and I are going to need to have an early conference and make some initial disclosures. Basic documents should be exchanged. Signed and file stamped copies of divorce decrees and marital property settlements are a must. Prince Charming’s last 5 years of tax returns should be mandatory. Addresses for every castle he has lived in for the last 10 years and whether he rented or owned. I would also want to know the make and model of his current horse, how many miles are on it and if any other horses have been repossessed.
Prince Charming and I will also have a detailed discovery plan. That way I will know up front what I am in for. Will I need an expert in the form of a substance abuse counselor or couple’s therapist? How will we resolve disputes when they arise? What expectations are being put on me? Am I expected to attend every royal ball even if I have a sick kid? Am I expected to always wear those gowns and if so, who is paying for the yoga classes? Does Prince Charming even like pet mice and birds? Is he allergic to them? Does he expect to give up his thrown and ask me to support him because life as a prince just does not fulfill him? All this information would be useful before you hop in that pumpkin and head off to the ball…don’t you think?
So I am not giving up on love. But I am giving up on Disney love. From here on out I will act like the intelligent woman I am even when faced with the daunting task of being rational and reasonable when Prince Charming shows up and smiles that perfect smile.
Disney teaches young girls that they should all want to be princesses or mermaids. After all, if you aren’t a beautiful princess or mermaid your only other option is evil witch, or ugly step-sister. Disney teaches us that some handsome man with a horse will show up in our hour of need and make our lives better. Disney teaches us that mice are actually our friends. That if you don’t talk at all it increases your chances of said handsome man with horse finding you absolutely irresistible. That if you meet said perfect guy at the ball, he will actually call you the next day. Not just call you, but track you down with your favorite, lost shoe. I do love the part about it all coming down to Cinderella’s shoes though. Those glass slippers are pretty cute.
I was thinking about my Disney class action suit today while I was working on a discovery plan. It occurred to me that maybe, instead of unrealistic expectations and sparkling dresses, relationships need early case conferences. You see, under Nevada law, when litigation is commenced, the parties are required to meet very early on to discuss the case. They talk about their witnesses, their documents, what discovery is needed, how long they anticipate the litigation will take, if they will need the help of expert witnesses. The potential range of damages is discussed. The parties sit down together and literally map a plan of how they will get this case to trial. It’s a road map for the course of the litigation.
I think I would benefit from this kind of planning when it comes to relationships. I mean, lets face it. I’m no Cinderella. My Snow White days are over. I’ve had my heart broken enough to know that I am under no illusions that you just see someone, fall in love, see fireworks, and hear harps and singing animals with sweet little voices. I also have no hope that Prince Charming will even remember to call the next day, much less bring back my favorite shoe that I may have left at his place. I have no illusions of happily ever after in a castle. In fact it is those ideas that have led to a lot of my problems. A more practical approach, a more business like approach, is necessary and appropriate.
Relationships need discovery plans. From here on out I think that before I even consider dating Prince Charming, he and I are going to need to have an early conference and make some initial disclosures. Basic documents should be exchanged. Signed and file stamped copies of divorce decrees and marital property settlements are a must. Prince Charming’s last 5 years of tax returns should be mandatory. Addresses for every castle he has lived in for the last 10 years and whether he rented or owned. I would also want to know the make and model of his current horse, how many miles are on it and if any other horses have been repossessed.
Prince Charming and I will also have a detailed discovery plan. That way I will know up front what I am in for. Will I need an expert in the form of a substance abuse counselor or couple’s therapist? How will we resolve disputes when they arise? What expectations are being put on me? Am I expected to attend every royal ball even if I have a sick kid? Am I expected to always wear those gowns and if so, who is paying for the yoga classes? Does Prince Charming even like pet mice and birds? Is he allergic to them? Does he expect to give up his thrown and ask me to support him because life as a prince just does not fulfill him? All this information would be useful before you hop in that pumpkin and head off to the ball…don’t you think?
So I am not giving up on love. But I am giving up on Disney love. From here on out I will act like the intelligent woman I am even when faced with the daunting task of being rational and reasonable when Prince Charming shows up and smiles that perfect smile.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Febrolutions
How can it be February already? Because January was a nightmare is why. A complete nightmare. There were monsters and everything.
January flew by in such a frantic, chaotic blur that I have lost track of all the changes I was going to make to myself and my life in 2011. I know what I need to do. And part of knowing what I need to do necessarily includes knowing what I don’t need to do. So here it is. I’m breaking this year down into manageable chunks. No more New Year’s Resolutions. I’m going with New Month’s Resolutions. Here it goes for February.
I am back off shopping. Yes… you heard it right and heard it here first. OFF shopping. I do not need anything. I have more than enough. I now own 4, wait, 5 pairs of Nike Free running shoes. Really? Do I really need 5 pairs? One pair does fall within the charitable contribution exception referenced in previous posts but the rest don’t. They don’t even fall within my “practical wardrobe enhancement exception”. They are not neutral colors. They are pink, purple, pink and purple, bright orange and blue. They are just cute. Now granted I am a runner and can justify running shoes but enough is enough. I can also justify running shorts. I found the greatest new place to purchase running shorts. Lululemon! Cutest. Running. Shorts. Ever. Ever! Thank the Lord there is no Lululemon store in my city. It is definitely on the save up and make a trip list though.
I have similar problems with books. I hereby promise that I will not buy anymore books until I have read the books that are currently all over my house. This excludes Taboo’s (from the Black Eyed Peas) new auto-biography. I just love him so, so much. And he has had a hard life and certainly deserves the $20.00 I will spend to have his book on the day it comes out. I do read a lot and really, truly love reading but perhaps I should check out that thing they call the Library rather than that magical place called Barnes and Nobel.
So, other than that one exception there is no shopping for anything but food and essentials for February. Now, in the past I have admittedly broadened the “essentials” category but I will do my best. There are no foreseeable shopping emergencies. Only one possible temptation in the form of a trip to Las Vegas but I will have my son with me who hates shopping so I should be ok.
Next, I will eat better. I am considering going “raw” and I am curious if anyone has had success with it. I’m doing pretty well with the yoga commitment and definitely feel it de-toxifying me. I wonder what a full out month of eating no crap will do. I have re-read Skinny Bitch and a few blogs about the horrors of meat and processed food especially. I need to feel better, I really do. It seems that a healthy “almost raw” diet just can’t hurt at this point. Actually, the more I think about it the more I think this requires more research and planning and will be a March resolution.
In addition, I’m all about self-realization and self-improvement. I am also going to be nice. I’m going to stop complaining, I am going to stop beating myself up over mistakes of all sizes. The little ones seem to get to me as much as the big ones. I’m going to calm down. I’m going to try to not wake up at 2 in the morning having panic attacks about work. I’m going to pray for signs. I’m going to choose not to take everything so personally. I’m going to assume the best intentions of all of those around me.
Finally I’m going to be my own Valentine. I am going to be nice to myself. Fat thighs, broken soul, and all. I am going to “Be Caryn”. I put this in quotes because the concept, although obvious when you think about it, comes from the book “The Happiness Project” by Gretchen Rubin. I was highly skeptical of this book when I started reading it but have come to absolutely love it. Her advice ends up being just be yourself. Love what you love. Don’t try to love things you don’t love because you think you are supposed to. I’m going to love my Saturdays of yoga and Beverly Hills 90201 Marathons. I’m going to love ridiculous movies on the SyFy Channel that make my son giggle his irresistible giggle. I’m going to spend Sundays in my pajamas. I’m going to admit to the world that I still love General Hospital and be thankful for the Soap network for making it accessible to those of us thankful to have something to do at 4 in the morning.
So that’s it. February has to be better than January. I had such high hopes on New Year’s Eve. But I guess the point is it’s never to late to keep working on your fat thighs and broken soul. I mean there is nothing magical about January 1. It’s not like you miss it and it’s gone. You just start fresh. On a new day. February 7 can be the new January 1. I will continue to just work on “Being Caryn”…only without the shopping.
January flew by in such a frantic, chaotic blur that I have lost track of all the changes I was going to make to myself and my life in 2011. I know what I need to do. And part of knowing what I need to do necessarily includes knowing what I don’t need to do. So here it is. I’m breaking this year down into manageable chunks. No more New Year’s Resolutions. I’m going with New Month’s Resolutions. Here it goes for February.
I am back off shopping. Yes… you heard it right and heard it here first. OFF shopping. I do not need anything. I have more than enough. I now own 4, wait, 5 pairs of Nike Free running shoes. Really? Do I really need 5 pairs? One pair does fall within the charitable contribution exception referenced in previous posts but the rest don’t. They don’t even fall within my “practical wardrobe enhancement exception”. They are not neutral colors. They are pink, purple, pink and purple, bright orange and blue. They are just cute. Now granted I am a runner and can justify running shoes but enough is enough. I can also justify running shorts. I found the greatest new place to purchase running shorts. Lululemon! Cutest. Running. Shorts. Ever. Ever! Thank the Lord there is no Lululemon store in my city. It is definitely on the save up and make a trip list though.
I have similar problems with books. I hereby promise that I will not buy anymore books until I have read the books that are currently all over my house. This excludes Taboo’s (from the Black Eyed Peas) new auto-biography. I just love him so, so much. And he has had a hard life and certainly deserves the $20.00 I will spend to have his book on the day it comes out. I do read a lot and really, truly love reading but perhaps I should check out that thing they call the Library rather than that magical place called Barnes and Nobel.
So, other than that one exception there is no shopping for anything but food and essentials for February. Now, in the past I have admittedly broadened the “essentials” category but I will do my best. There are no foreseeable shopping emergencies. Only one possible temptation in the form of a trip to Las Vegas but I will have my son with me who hates shopping so I should be ok.
Next, I will eat better. I am considering going “raw” and I am curious if anyone has had success with it. I’m doing pretty well with the yoga commitment and definitely feel it de-toxifying me. I wonder what a full out month of eating no crap will do. I have re-read Skinny Bitch and a few blogs about the horrors of meat and processed food especially. I need to feel better, I really do. It seems that a healthy “almost raw” diet just can’t hurt at this point. Actually, the more I think about it the more I think this requires more research and planning and will be a March resolution.
In addition, I’m all about self-realization and self-improvement. I am also going to be nice. I’m going to stop complaining, I am going to stop beating myself up over mistakes of all sizes. The little ones seem to get to me as much as the big ones. I’m going to calm down. I’m going to try to not wake up at 2 in the morning having panic attacks about work. I’m going to pray for signs. I’m going to choose not to take everything so personally. I’m going to assume the best intentions of all of those around me.
Finally I’m going to be my own Valentine. I am going to be nice to myself. Fat thighs, broken soul, and all. I am going to “Be Caryn”. I put this in quotes because the concept, although obvious when you think about it, comes from the book “The Happiness Project” by Gretchen Rubin. I was highly skeptical of this book when I started reading it but have come to absolutely love it. Her advice ends up being just be yourself. Love what you love. Don’t try to love things you don’t love because you think you are supposed to. I’m going to love my Saturdays of yoga and Beverly Hills 90201 Marathons. I’m going to love ridiculous movies on the SyFy Channel that make my son giggle his irresistible giggle. I’m going to spend Sundays in my pajamas. I’m going to admit to the world that I still love General Hospital and be thankful for the Soap network for making it accessible to those of us thankful to have something to do at 4 in the morning.
So that’s it. February has to be better than January. I had such high hopes on New Year’s Eve. But I guess the point is it’s never to late to keep working on your fat thighs and broken soul. I mean there is nothing magical about January 1. It’s not like you miss it and it’s gone. You just start fresh. On a new day. February 7 can be the new January 1. I will continue to just work on “Being Caryn”…only without the shopping.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Is Bikram Choudry Available to Babysit?
I have been accused of taking up new sports or activities simply so that I can have an excuse to shop for new clothes and gear for that sport or activity. I am not sure that is accurate but I will say that yoga clothes are pretty darn cute.
I recently started going to Bikram Yoga on a regular basis. My first Bikram Yoga class was when my son was 5. That would be 7 years ago if my math is right. Damn I’m getting old. Anyway, I would never have gone had it not been for my law firm at the time deciding that we all needed a little stress relief. A Bikram Yoga studio had just opened in Reno. They gave every employee class cards for 10 classes at a time and I figured I would give it a try. I honestly don’t remember much about my first class or the 20 classes I took back then. I remember it was hot. I remember that I had spots on my face for about a week. I later found out those spots were the bad toxins in my system working their way out of my polluted body. I guess that’s a good thing. My Bikram Yoga career was tragically short. I was a newly single mom to a kindergartener. I was working full time. I was fat and didn't know how essential exercise was to a healthy life. I didn’t exactly have a lot of time for 90 minutes of yoga on a regular basis. Now Bikram says things like “If you don’t have time in your life for yoga, change your life.” I thought at the time, "Yeah right Bikram…are you available to baby-sit?"
I returned to Bikram Yoga at the urging of my best friend Krista about two years ago. I had just given up martial arts and was looking for a sport where people weren’t always trying to hit me. No one tries to put you in an arm bar at yoga. There are no thai kicks, no roundhouses to the head, no body jabs. I love that about yoga. But I digress… I was hooked again. I went faithfully about 5-6 days a week. I lost a lot of weight and felt better about myself and life than I had in a long time. I bought the special super cute towel with the grippers that fits perfectly on your mat and doesn’t make your feet slip. Although based on a recent lecture from Stefan I realize that these towels may be a form of cheating. Something to do with a lack of inner thigh strength? I’m not sure but the towels are so cute that I have 3. I kept it up for a good 5 months. I was faithful. I was devoted. My heart belonged to Bikram Choudry. Then, of course, my life got in the way. My son, 11 at the time, needed surgery (nothing major but when it is your kid it is always major) and once again I thought to myself, “if you don’t have time for yoga in your life, change your life”. Again I thought to myself, “Ok Bikram, are you available to sit at the hospital or on the couch watching a sick kid?” That’s what I thought…
The thing with Bikram Yoga is once you get out of the routine, it is really hard to go back. You know after being gone a while the weird spots will come back on your face. The excruciating headache will return in the dreaded Camel pose. You know that the triangle really sucks when you haven’t been there for a while. And then there is the thought that those super cute yoga shorts just might not be as cute on you after a yoga hiatus.
Fast forward to November of 2010. I was driving in the car and literally said to myself, “I need to go to hot yoga”. It was the strangest thing. I knew I needed to go. I knew. I said to my boyfriend “I can feel the pollution in my brain, in my blood, pulsing through my body. I’m a big fat polluted person!”
The very next day I found my way back to Bikram Yoga. One pair of my super cute yoga shorts still fit so I put them on, took a deep breath and went back to the mat. I will admit that I was a little crushed when one of my favorite teachers didn’t remember me (thanks Barry) but, I suppose, that’s what I get for being unfaithful.
I have been faithfully going to Bikram Yoga 4-5 times a week. I long for the day that I can do a 30 day challenge and go everyday. But for now, I have enough challenges in my life. I look forward to seeing Susana (the cutest little thing ever) with a different yoga outfit for everyday of the week. Where does she shop? Must be on-line. My heart smiles when Eric is the teacher because he recites poetry at the end. Eric is the only person in my life who recites poetry. How great is that! Stefan scares me a little bit because he gave a pretty hash lecture about the hazards of cheating by moving your towel so you feet don’t slip. Apparently Bikram doesn’t like cheaters. But I like his tattoos and his sense of humor when he isn’t being a yoga hard ass.
I know Bikram Choudry sometimes gets a bad rap. He is frowned on for having too many cars and living a lavish lifestyle in Beverly Hills. He is condemned, in essence, for shopping too much. Seriously? He is questioned for his decision to copyright his yoga postures. The attorney in me is all for copyrights. Why wouldn’t he do everything he can to have his intellectual property protected? Bikram Yoga is accused of not being “real yoga”. Well it feels real to me in the middle of the balancing stick in 105 degree heat.
I am committed for the long run. I no longer need Bikram to baby-sit because my son is growing up way too fast. My cute shorts all fit again. I’m not spotted like a leopard because a fair amount of my polluted soul has been cleaned. The headaches have gone away. I still dread the camel pose but I know someday soon I will look forward to it. I actually love the heat. I admire my fellow yogis that show up everyday. Eric’s poetry makes my heart happy. This is definitely about more than having an excuse to buy new clothes and gear. This is a lifestyle thing. I’m in it for the long haul…cute shorts, cute towels and all.
I recently started going to Bikram Yoga on a regular basis. My first Bikram Yoga class was when my son was 5. That would be 7 years ago if my math is right. Damn I’m getting old. Anyway, I would never have gone had it not been for my law firm at the time deciding that we all needed a little stress relief. A Bikram Yoga studio had just opened in Reno. They gave every employee class cards for 10 classes at a time and I figured I would give it a try. I honestly don’t remember much about my first class or the 20 classes I took back then. I remember it was hot. I remember that I had spots on my face for about a week. I later found out those spots were the bad toxins in my system working their way out of my polluted body. I guess that’s a good thing. My Bikram Yoga career was tragically short. I was a newly single mom to a kindergartener. I was working full time. I was fat and didn't know how essential exercise was to a healthy life. I didn’t exactly have a lot of time for 90 minutes of yoga on a regular basis. Now Bikram says things like “If you don’t have time in your life for yoga, change your life.” I thought at the time, "Yeah right Bikram…are you available to baby-sit?"
I returned to Bikram Yoga at the urging of my best friend Krista about two years ago. I had just given up martial arts and was looking for a sport where people weren’t always trying to hit me. No one tries to put you in an arm bar at yoga. There are no thai kicks, no roundhouses to the head, no body jabs. I love that about yoga. But I digress… I was hooked again. I went faithfully about 5-6 days a week. I lost a lot of weight and felt better about myself and life than I had in a long time. I bought the special super cute towel with the grippers that fits perfectly on your mat and doesn’t make your feet slip. Although based on a recent lecture from Stefan I realize that these towels may be a form of cheating. Something to do with a lack of inner thigh strength? I’m not sure but the towels are so cute that I have 3. I kept it up for a good 5 months. I was faithful. I was devoted. My heart belonged to Bikram Choudry. Then, of course, my life got in the way. My son, 11 at the time, needed surgery (nothing major but when it is your kid it is always major) and once again I thought to myself, “if you don’t have time for yoga in your life, change your life”. Again I thought to myself, “Ok Bikram, are you available to sit at the hospital or on the couch watching a sick kid?” That’s what I thought…
The thing with Bikram Yoga is once you get out of the routine, it is really hard to go back. You know after being gone a while the weird spots will come back on your face. The excruciating headache will return in the dreaded Camel pose. You know that the triangle really sucks when you haven’t been there for a while. And then there is the thought that those super cute yoga shorts just might not be as cute on you after a yoga hiatus.
Fast forward to November of 2010. I was driving in the car and literally said to myself, “I need to go to hot yoga”. It was the strangest thing. I knew I needed to go. I knew. I said to my boyfriend “I can feel the pollution in my brain, in my blood, pulsing through my body. I’m a big fat polluted person!”
The very next day I found my way back to Bikram Yoga. One pair of my super cute yoga shorts still fit so I put them on, took a deep breath and went back to the mat. I will admit that I was a little crushed when one of my favorite teachers didn’t remember me (thanks Barry) but, I suppose, that’s what I get for being unfaithful.
I have been faithfully going to Bikram Yoga 4-5 times a week. I long for the day that I can do a 30 day challenge and go everyday. But for now, I have enough challenges in my life. I look forward to seeing Susana (the cutest little thing ever) with a different yoga outfit for everyday of the week. Where does she shop? Must be on-line. My heart smiles when Eric is the teacher because he recites poetry at the end. Eric is the only person in my life who recites poetry. How great is that! Stefan scares me a little bit because he gave a pretty hash lecture about the hazards of cheating by moving your towel so you feet don’t slip. Apparently Bikram doesn’t like cheaters. But I like his tattoos and his sense of humor when he isn’t being a yoga hard ass.
I know Bikram Choudry sometimes gets a bad rap. He is frowned on for having too many cars and living a lavish lifestyle in Beverly Hills. He is condemned, in essence, for shopping too much. Seriously? He is questioned for his decision to copyright his yoga postures. The attorney in me is all for copyrights. Why wouldn’t he do everything he can to have his intellectual property protected? Bikram Yoga is accused of not being “real yoga”. Well it feels real to me in the middle of the balancing stick in 105 degree heat.
I am committed for the long run. I no longer need Bikram to baby-sit because my son is growing up way too fast. My cute shorts all fit again. I’m not spotted like a leopard because a fair amount of my polluted soul has been cleaned. The headaches have gone away. I still dread the camel pose but I know someday soon I will look forward to it. I actually love the heat. I admire my fellow yogis that show up everyday. Eric’s poetry makes my heart happy. This is definitely about more than having an excuse to buy new clothes and gear. This is a lifestyle thing. I’m in it for the long haul…cute shorts, cute towels and all.
Monday, January 24, 2011
The Lady Bug and The Chardonnay
I love ladybugs. Lady bugs are good luck and they always cheer me up. They seem to be attracted to me as well. They land on me when I am running. I find them on my car. I even recently met a very lucky little ladybug on the sand in Santa Monica. Let me tell you the story of how I came to find this little ladybug.
My best friend Krista and I took a much needed vacation to Santa Monica for a long weekend. We went under the guise of running a half marathon. In all fairness, we did in fact sign up to run a half marathon. The 13.1 Half Marathon-Los Angeles to be specific. We had our cab driver take us to the “expo”. Our cab driver was an LA cholo who decided mid cab ride that he needed to introduce us to a new comedian. We listened for 5 minutes to vulgar cursing and racial slurs before there was even a joke. Meanwhile our cab driver is yelling out the window to people standing on the corners. “Hey Brittany” was especially memorable. We left our belongings with the cab driver while we ran into the cute running store to get our shirts and race numbers. Too bad we were so worried about our stuff in the cab that we couldn’t shop. That store had some cute stuff. Finally, off to the hotel for some pool time and resting up for our big run.
We really did have every intention of running the half marathon until two glasses of Chardonnay at the hotel pool brought the utter foolishness of our goals into focus. We thought about it while we walked along the beach. It was weighing heavily on our minds while we rode the roller coaster on Santa Monica Pier. Finally the answer came to us over dinner. Our discussion went something like this:
“You know, it’s going to take a long time to run 13 miles.”
“I do know, at least 2 and a half hours.”
“And we have to walk to the start and back to the hotel from the finish. That’s another hour right there”.
“That is three hours we won’t be able to spend at the beach.”
“Right. And really, you’ve been sick, and I’ve been…well stressed…and it will take more like 3 hours to run the half marathon.”
“Don’t forget the one hour of walking to the start and finish.”
“But we already got the green shirts that say we ran a half marathon”.
“No one will ever know. Well except for our race numbers that say we are running the half marathon.”
“We will wear t-shirts over those numbers so no one will know.”
“What about the pictures?”
“We will hold our shirts up to show the numbers when we see the photographers.”
“What about the medals?”
“We won’t take the medals…that would be wrong.”
“Right. It will probably take more like 3 and a half hours to run 13 miles…God that sounds far.”
“Plus the hour walk back and forth to the hotel”.
“That’s like half the day we won’t be able to spend at the beach OR the hotel pool”.
“Ok. Let’s do the 5K.”
“Ok. The 5K”.
“But we have to get up and do the 5K”.
“We will…I’m getting another Chardonnay.”
We did get up and run the 5K. In our defense, it was at least a 2 mile walk to the start. On a shameful note, we did in fact take the medals for the half marathon even though we knew it was wrong. We actually convinced the sweet little teenaged volunteer from big brothers and big sisters to give us the medals even though we ran only the 5K and the 5K does not really earn you a medal. We used our finely honed skills of persuasion, we are lawyers after all, and convinced her that we had in fact paid for those medals and the fact that we were sick and well…stressed…were unforeseen circumstances. Therefore, we should have medals anyway. She conceded. Damn we are good! We do plan to white out the one of the 13 and then it will be accurate. And we did pay for them.
We had a fabulous guilt free day at the beach with chardonnay. Lots of it. I take the lady bug as a sign that we made the responsible and right decision. I mean, if we had run the half marathon, however would we have had the energy to walk the 2 miles back to Venice Beach to buy art from homeless, toothless, criminals. No one should ever miss that. Admittedly I was reluctant. Beach vendors are kind of scary to me and what was that strange fog hanging over the entirety of the boardwalk. What was that smell? Well after about 10 minutes, my reluctance faded away and there was street art that I just could not live without. Everyone needs a cat holding a grenade for their 12 year old son. Who can resist the “don’t f*&% with me I’m a goddess” painting. And Ra Ra Superstar? The man has displayed his art in Tokyo for Christ’s sake. We started to question the wisdom of even the 5k when we realized we had to walk back to the hotel…again…with all of our art. Thank god for vodka. It always comes through just when you think all hope is lost. Just when you think you can’t go on. Just when you want to sit down and cry…you have some vodka and can trudge on through the trenches of hell. 2 pink pussycats (vodka, lemonade, and pomegranate) and we were on our way.
We made it back to the hotel in time for more wine and the golden globes. We had a fabulous time swooning over Colin Firth. I think Krista actually cried when the camera paned to him in the crowd but I’m not sure. At the end of the Golden Globes we were exhausted. I was shocked when I looked up and saw Krista’s smiling face asking expectantly “Kiki…do you want to go to the hot tub? Hot tub? Hot tub?”. Fortunately I declined and we both were asleep within six minutes.
At the end of our trip we found t-shirts that summed up the entire experience. Our shirts say “Running Sucks” in frilly sparkly font. The girls at the Nike store must have thought we were freaks as we giggled through the store with our fabulous shirts.
You might wonder if I have any regrets about this weekend. I am, after all, an avid runner. I have run countless half marathons. I’m a runner damnit. Well, I have no regrets. I had a great time. I have a great friend. I had some chardonnay. I met a new ladybug. And we would not have had the much needed beach time if we had in fact run the half marathon. It would have taken at least 5 hours after all. Plus the hour walk to and from…
My best friend Krista and I took a much needed vacation to Santa Monica for a long weekend. We went under the guise of running a half marathon. In all fairness, we did in fact sign up to run a half marathon. The 13.1 Half Marathon-Los Angeles to be specific. We had our cab driver take us to the “expo”. Our cab driver was an LA cholo who decided mid cab ride that he needed to introduce us to a new comedian. We listened for 5 minutes to vulgar cursing and racial slurs before there was even a joke. Meanwhile our cab driver is yelling out the window to people standing on the corners. “Hey Brittany” was especially memorable. We left our belongings with the cab driver while we ran into the cute running store to get our shirts and race numbers. Too bad we were so worried about our stuff in the cab that we couldn’t shop. That store had some cute stuff. Finally, off to the hotel for some pool time and resting up for our big run.
We really did have every intention of running the half marathon until two glasses of Chardonnay at the hotel pool brought the utter foolishness of our goals into focus. We thought about it while we walked along the beach. It was weighing heavily on our minds while we rode the roller coaster on Santa Monica Pier. Finally the answer came to us over dinner. Our discussion went something like this:
“You know, it’s going to take a long time to run 13 miles.”
“I do know, at least 2 and a half hours.”
“And we have to walk to the start and back to the hotel from the finish. That’s another hour right there”.
“That is three hours we won’t be able to spend at the beach.”
“Right. And really, you’ve been sick, and I’ve been…well stressed…and it will take more like 3 hours to run the half marathon.”
“Don’t forget the one hour of walking to the start and finish.”
“But we already got the green shirts that say we ran a half marathon”.
“No one will ever know. Well except for our race numbers that say we are running the half marathon.”
“We will wear t-shirts over those numbers so no one will know.”
“What about the pictures?”
“We will hold our shirts up to show the numbers when we see the photographers.”
“What about the medals?”
“We won’t take the medals…that would be wrong.”
“Right. It will probably take more like 3 and a half hours to run 13 miles…God that sounds far.”
“Plus the hour walk back and forth to the hotel”.
“That’s like half the day we won’t be able to spend at the beach OR the hotel pool”.
“Ok. Let’s do the 5K.”
“Ok. The 5K”.
“But we have to get up and do the 5K”.
“We will…I’m getting another Chardonnay.”
We did get up and run the 5K. In our defense, it was at least a 2 mile walk to the start. On a shameful note, we did in fact take the medals for the half marathon even though we knew it was wrong. We actually convinced the sweet little teenaged volunteer from big brothers and big sisters to give us the medals even though we ran only the 5K and the 5K does not really earn you a medal. We used our finely honed skills of persuasion, we are lawyers after all, and convinced her that we had in fact paid for those medals and the fact that we were sick and well…stressed…were unforeseen circumstances. Therefore, we should have medals anyway. She conceded. Damn we are good! We do plan to white out the one of the 13 and then it will be accurate. And we did pay for them.
We had a fabulous guilt free day at the beach with chardonnay. Lots of it. I take the lady bug as a sign that we made the responsible and right decision. I mean, if we had run the half marathon, however would we have had the energy to walk the 2 miles back to Venice Beach to buy art from homeless, toothless, criminals. No one should ever miss that. Admittedly I was reluctant. Beach vendors are kind of scary to me and what was that strange fog hanging over the entirety of the boardwalk. What was that smell? Well after about 10 minutes, my reluctance faded away and there was street art that I just could not live without. Everyone needs a cat holding a grenade for their 12 year old son. Who can resist the “don’t f*&% with me I’m a goddess” painting. And Ra Ra Superstar? The man has displayed his art in Tokyo for Christ’s sake. We started to question the wisdom of even the 5k when we realized we had to walk back to the hotel…again…with all of our art. Thank god for vodka. It always comes through just when you think all hope is lost. Just when you think you can’t go on. Just when you want to sit down and cry…you have some vodka and can trudge on through the trenches of hell. 2 pink pussycats (vodka, lemonade, and pomegranate) and we were on our way.
We made it back to the hotel in time for more wine and the golden globes. We had a fabulous time swooning over Colin Firth. I think Krista actually cried when the camera paned to him in the crowd but I’m not sure. At the end of the Golden Globes we were exhausted. I was shocked when I looked up and saw Krista’s smiling face asking expectantly “Kiki…do you want to go to the hot tub? Hot tub? Hot tub?”. Fortunately I declined and we both were asleep within six minutes.
At the end of our trip we found t-shirts that summed up the entire experience. Our shirts say “Running Sucks” in frilly sparkly font. The girls at the Nike store must have thought we were freaks as we giggled through the store with our fabulous shirts.
You might wonder if I have any regrets about this weekend. I am, after all, an avid runner. I have run countless half marathons. I’m a runner damnit. Well, I have no regrets. I had a great time. I have a great friend. I had some chardonnay. I met a new ladybug. And we would not have had the much needed beach time if we had in fact run the half marathon. It would have taken at least 5 hours after all. Plus the hour walk to and from…
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