Since BY NOW you know soooooo much about me I thought I’d just put my ass all the way out there and confess that I am an avid practitioner of yoga. Now, just cuz I like it doesn’t mean I’m ready to sit inside some gigantic cauldron so I can get my eyeballs to sweat a la bikram. People are doing ALL KINDS of crazy with yoga but it’s really not that serious. I have made major strides in my inner-tubal-like back fat that refuses to budge until they get a better setup–they’ve got their fleshy sights set for my arm flappers, as they have been strategising over the years how there might be some synergy with BOTH my back fat AND bat wings so that they can bully me into a sewing circle with the other floppy-armed, spare and tired arse ladies who patch enough quilting to create a burqa, complete with gingerbread men and little mice decorating the Christmas tree. You see, all that flare is a distraction and literal cover up for millions of fat cells lying in wait for you to take that last piece of sweet potato pie to begin ALL the machinations that work together to make your ass fat.
I have a quirky exercise regimine that involves a yoga mat, massage oil, a freshly-cleaned and NEKKID body, dark room, smelly candles, and Young & The Restless on TEE VEE.
Just imagine: Sharon and Nick or hell, Adam? Getting hot and heavy over some silly intrigue you watch about ten minutes of that clap trap, all the while cursing your mother for practically pasting our eyeballs to the screen in the middle of the day when nary a cartoon could be found. But now like the crack you KNEW you shouldn’t have smoked, you’re hooked. That’s why I never tried crack, or heroine, because if I could be this addicted to a soap opera I shudder at the thought of giving homeless men fellatio for two cents each until I’ve saved enough for my next fix.
Anyway, back to more pleasant things, like NEKKID YOGA. Here’s what I do: I take hot showers limber up my muscles, which takes time off warming them up, instead of some frenetic Jane Fonda like contortions aimed at lynching by leg warmers. Instead of lotion to soothe your ashiness, I use lavendar massage oil. Muscles warm; skin plyable; time to twist yourself up in a knot.
I do a series of what the yogis call visyasas. Here’s my routine: Sun Salutation, bend down, touch the toes, then Monkey (no not me the move) Looking Up, go into Plank, then Up Dog, then Down Dog. I do this for about as long as my arms can stand it (8-10 minutes). What’s great about this series is that it works just about everything and you can stop there if you want to if you’re in a rush. If you’re zealous and want more, may I suggest buying or checking this book out of the library: B.K.S. Iyengar Yoga: The Path to Holistic Health.
Just try to overlook that the guy looks like this:
His boobs are perky for an old guy, huh?
Anyway, doing NEKKID YOGA with a combination of a Vitamix concotion I’ll tell you about later, my stomach, after FOUR KIDS, looks like this:
I took this pic last night. AFTER DINNER. Notice I’m in my pajama pants? AND! The photo has been UNTOUCHED! UNTOUCHED!!!