Last fall, I started going to hot yoga a few times a month - I'd like to say once a week, but who are we kidding. I am the least athletically inclined person I know and my coordination sucks, so this was really going out on a limb for me - and the "hot" is no joke, at least 8,000 degrees. It turns out, I don't totally suck at it and I LOVE it! I never knew it was possible for my eyeballs to sweat and that some real exertion wouldn't really kill me - serious personal growth! Anyway, I pretty much always go to the same class but a few weeks ago I decided, since Captain America was home from work and could do the after school sports schlepping, I would go to a Monday night class. Since I never bothered to research anything yoga-centric, imagine my surprise when I found out there are different types of yoga classes - the ones I like and the ones that I would prefer to pull my fingernails out with a dull tweezers than attend. This was the dull tweezer class.
First off - the people going to this class were super chummy and chatty - SHUT UP! I'm not here to make friends, just sweat my ass off and go home. I don't care how long it took you to get here and I definitely don't want to debate the pros and cons of indoor vs outdoor volleyball - WTF?!
Secondly - I will never claim to be super fit or whatever - but in my opinion, if I'm paying for a class, I want the instructor to look like they actually know what they are doing and look like they should be on the cover of Yoga Monthly - do NOT be in worse shape than me - and stop being so chatty and joking around - it's enough for me to block out the voices in my head, I shouldn't have to block out yours too.
Finally - the MUSIC and Pace of this class was ridiculous - it was freaking sweat box aerobics, no poses to hold, just a lot of sit ups and crunches (certainly for the benefit of the instructor). And what started off with the go to yoga music: indian flute and chirping birds - quickly changed to a little country, a little 90's, some One Direction and then RAP! Holy shit! RAP?!?! I'm not clubbing for crying out loud, I'm just trying to do the downward dog without falling over. I want freaking Yanni and Ottmar Liebert (yes, they are on my iPod - don't judge). By the time this class was over I was stressed out like a research monkey and the usual frozen wash cloth prize at the end that I so look forward too was just one more thing preventing me from getting the hell out of there.
Namaste my ass, Miss Instructor - you can take your fusion and shove it.
I'll never cheat on Hatha again!
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