I've fallen and can't get up
|I'm a farm girl. I'm the one who mucks the stalls, shleps 50lb feed bags, and moves around 100+ lb bales of hay. I'm athletic, strong, and a former workoutaholic. I recently purchased Bryan Kest's Power Yoga DVD and an extra thick, extra long, state of the art red yoga mat. (My doctor and the web suggested this was the ultimate way to alleviate stress- Not the red mat, but yoga in general.)|
So, today was the day I started yoga.
Let me preface this by stating that I own every workout video known to man. Step aerobics, aerobics with weights, Reebox, pilates (Yuck. Resold on eBay.), Cindy Crawford, Elle McPherson, Cher, Jane Fonda, Denise Austin, and some skinny chick that has orgasms while lifting weights (Or so it seems. It's quite disconcerting). None of them kicked my ass as hard as Bryan did today. My muscles are goo. I want to crawl under the comforter and watch movies until my muscles work again. Like next week or so.
I suppose the relaxation part of it was a success. Too bad that life goes on whether or not my muscles want to work and there is laundry to be done, paintings to be painted, Valentine's Day crap to buy, insurance companies to be called . . .
Last night while I was visiting my friend, her stepfather backed into my car. Hard. This wouldn't suck half as much if this weren't the second time it happened in less than a year because I parked in the same place. But in my defense, I didn't even park behind anybody. I was already there when they arrived. It is a cursed parking spot. (Damn you, parking spot!)
And I have chunks of hair breaking off due to that one time that woman mistook me for Dontella Versace.
And no, I didn't win the wine label competition. Apparently humanized herons sitting at a table drinking wine won the competition. Watercolor to boot. (Or so rumor has it.) Man. Didn't see that one coming.
PS Bryan. I'm glad to see you cut your hair. Michael Bolton would be proud.