Fat dancers

I love to dance but am not built like a ballerina.  I should have been a pole dancer.  Here's me at 16...  I'm too fat to be a real ballerina so they cast me as Arabian coffee addict. ( Act II Divertissement:  Nutcracker). 

 If pole dancing were okay for virgins at a Catholic High School for girls I'd have been all over it.  Instead I spent years playing roles like the tart,  a man, the Princess Mother, a big-boobed member of the corps de ballet in most classic productions (Swan Lake, Waltz of the Flowers, La Bayadere, - you get the picture.)  Very occasionally I got a solo because I could move and the skinny dancers couldn't make the quick change.  I was trying so hard to be something I'm not:  Long and lithe.  But a dancer:  I am.  I'll never forget going to the soda machine for a drink during rehearsal one time (I know it's an oxymoron - like a nurse on a smoke break.) and the Director says:

"Clair, I hope that's diet." 

It wasn't.

Now, I wasn't grow-to-the-couch huge just curvy and as my beloved Mother would say "Earthy" and "Perfectly Proportioned"  (Whatever that means.)  I was not created for point shoes but tap shoes, that's a whole other story.  Instead of chasing my groove-on and the bass and the attitude which came naturally, I lurched for the tiara of the Sugar Plum Fairy - that sweet petite, airy creature who made people cry in a good way.  It was not to be.  She is not me.

Fast forward 25 years.  I run to keep my weight down and because I love The Race.  I teach exercise classes because I love The Performance and the wellness and the People.  I practice Yoga simply because I love The Life.  I dance every chance I get because I am.   

Hmmm..  I hear Pole Dancing is fun and big boobs are an asset instead of a liability. I think she's beautiful

 Be what you are.  Are you?

I am not Meg Ryan

Remember When a Man Loves a Woman?

I love that movie.  Meg Ryan is an alcoholic.  Her hot husband co-depends like no other and everything gets all messed up.  After a trip to Mexico, a condescending comment about stirring coffee with a little spoon, and a stay at a 5-star rehab clinic, things start looking up.  Love a good drama.  Besides the fact I have always wanted Meg's hair, I  have addictive qualities too (future post) so I mean no offense.  I'm just saying, it's broad daylight and I haven't been looking for a nip in the garbage can.  Sometimes a girl just needs to sleep.  Nothing like a good nap.

Bikram says real rest or complete relaxation is like our gas station.  It fills us up, making us ready for what's next.  I like that.  I always feel guilty when I take a nap.  Above, it's Saturday.  I ran 5.3 miles in 90 wet degrees and did 10 backbends.  I worked for one hour and cleaned up the aftermath of my daughter's sleepover.  Then I drove to softball practice to retrieve my little All-stars.  I came home and made lunch for 2 of them.  Then I passed out with my brown bitch and not because I'm Meg Ryan.  I am a wimp. I couldn't take the heat so I passed out in the kitchen.

As a Bikram student, I was hopeful my nap would rev me up - get me ready for what was next.  Here it is...

It didn't work.

Going for the Pinot Grigio now.  Wouldn't you if you woke up to that?

What do you like to wake up to after a nap? 

I want to be you

I know the coolest people.

Beth just qualified for Boston and recently played blackjack in a bikini in Vegas.

Tighe juices with ginger.

Garland is the oldest younger than 30-year-old I know.

Dennine is learning Reiki.

Megan knows her horses better than most people know themselves.

Amy gardens, runs, writes, makes jewelry and is a physical therapist.

Dawn simply gets it.

Glen is sweet and loyal and the grandest tradition-loving uncomplicated soul with his eyes set on What Matters.

I love all these people and many others for a zillion reasons.  I fancy myself a running, raw food eating, animal-loving, energy- flowing, veggie-growing. working-mother, accomplished, business-owning yogini who's funny smart and true to the core.  Or a piece of all of you.  Why am I contemplating all of this? I went running today.  I haven't run much since diving into Bikram Yoga. I find something I love and I want to be the best at it sometimes I end up all over the map and since I do everything full-tilt I sometimes lose my own compass.  Maybe one day I'll want to just be me.

I ran 4 miles at a 9:06 pace then I did 10 backbends before I showered and went to work.  I got home just before my three lovely children got home from school.  Instead of feeling like a Renaissance Woman who's got it goin' on I felt like a failure because of the dust bunnies under my couch and because my hair didn't look good.  Suddenly, I'm not a runner or a Yogi or anything I can hold onto with pride.  I am a lesser version of all of you awesome, talented people.  And then I realized we are ALL FRICKIN' HUMAN.

Maybe the things I love about everyone else are also inside me and if I just CHILL OUT, I could love it whereever it is.  In me.  In you.  On the course.  In the HOT ROOM.  Under the couch.  With the dust bunnies.  In every blade of grass, whisper of wind and hair on my children's head.

My 10-year-old daughter just got Athlete of the Year award for her whole school.  Could a piece of  me be in her?  Actually it's probably from her former college-ball playing Dad.  But does that really matter?  It's ALL GOOD whereever it is.

 It looks really good on you and hmmm, maybe not so bad in me either. 

What did you think about today?

She's awesome.

Tear the roof off the mutha

Remember Parliament?

Ow, we want the funk

Give up the funk

Ow, we need the funk

We gotta have that funk
Tear the roof off the mutha, 
Tear the roof off the sucka,
Tear the roof off the mother.


 Brilliant. That song is 9 min. 3 sec.  I need 3 minutes of brilliance this fall during the Mid-Atlantic Asana Championships in Richmond, Virginia.  I'm trying...

10 to 15 a day.

That's me.

10 to 15 a day. 

(That's not me.  I wish.)

I'm going for it.  I love me some funk.  Funk in the Bikram room.  Funk in my pelvis, right behind my belly button.  Funk that makes me ageless, timeless, fearless, joint and boneless but never, NEVER spineless.  The funk is in the gelatinous fluid inside the vertebrae.  It is shear and utter freedom and I am there.  I am tearing the roof off the mother as I get stronger, funkier and ultimately happier.  My Bikram and Hatha Yoga brethren are there too and I couldn't be more excited.  We don't compete against each other we work with each other to find it, touch it, smell it, eat it, love it.  That funk.  On the other side of the roof.  Tear it off!

What's your ceiling?

Annoucing: My trainer

My family teaches me everything.  Little Miss Jane schools me all the time.  For example, she reminds me:

1. I still like morning breath.
2. There are a million ways to say," let's cuddle"...  (moo-moo, ohhhhhh come heeeeere) and to
3. OWN YOUR BACKBONE. 

Here's how...

10 a day to start and you'll own it.  I started Saturday at my 'homework' session after Bikram  (I love my fearless leaders,  Garland and Tighe). On Sunday I put my nose the grindstone (or brick).

I did 11 of these with my cute trainers, Jane and Kathleen who double as my photographers.  Why in tarnation am I doing this?  I am participating in the 2010 Mid-Atlantic Asana Championships in November/December.  Yoga and competition in the same sentence seems like blasphemy to some but I ask you to consider the art of human movement and that we are not judged but guided to the best asana possible for all human form.  Yoga meets you where you without judgement and with inspiration and motivation offers a vision of where to be.  Just be.  We can only go where the mind does.  Our body follows the eye.  AND backbends make you better at this:

Sir, give me THAT brownie in your bakery case.

 - or-

I'll take THAT Williamsburg Vignoir with lunch.

We should all have the option to be so dramatic.

My trainer is really good at teaching me THAT.  Who trains you?  I'd listen to HER.  She's got friends in  high places.

Shut your mouth and irrigate!

What would your bumper sticker say? 
Today I decided mine would be 'Shut your mouth and irrigate'.  The first part is easy.  I hate extra noise.  Coming from a family of 8 and now with 3 children and 2 dogs of my own I need my quiet.  "Shut your mouth".  That's harsh.  In contention would be:

• Shut your hole.  (for pervs)
• Shut up.  (for mainstream meanies)
• Zip it.  (for nerds)

"Shut your mouth" was a favorite of my Dad's.  It came out like schutttyerrmowwwth and he meant business.  With 6 children he needed his quiet too.  Like a lot of things to me, it is now funny and endearing.  For the record, I'd give anything to hear him say it again.

Okay.  Now, the irrigate part.

In Yoga the focus is always on the breath.  I now know through Bikram Yoga, Dr. Oz and Mary Jarvis that your breath is the best super-food on the planet.  In Jivamukti Yoga, which means "soul liberation," there is a whole section on cleansing your entrances and exits which includes nasal irrigation.  Jivamukti guides your body and soul into spiritual freedom, physical strength, peace of mind, better health and self-realization. No matter what style of yoga you practice, Jivamukti Yoga will help you to strengthen and deepen your practice and guide you further on the path of spiritual clarity and self-discovery. Includes clear, dramatic black and white photographs.

I've owned this book for years. 

Don't tell anybody. 

Except for the photos with Goth Make-up and extra-long finger nails, I highly recommend it.

I'm going to shut my mouth and irrigate now.  I'll let you know how it goes. 

(I think I  have to open my mouth and do this.  But I promise to be real quiet.)

What would your bumper sticker say?

Is popping a cherry like boba?

Boba:  (pronounced:  bow-bah) A sound used to describe supreme wellness, bliss, contentedness, knowingness, utter presence in the moment and the space between heartbeats.  It's the unexplainable in the joy of absolute interconnected humanity.  Boba is in your big toe.
Can I  use boba with Cheribundi, the new drink I was asked to try?  This is my first product review (thank you Samantha!) and I am boba over that.  Plus, at 41 I am popping cherries left and right.  Here's how it went...

First, don't be jealous of my hair.  I am just back from Bikram and I am flippin' thirsty.  I now know water is overrated in the hot room.  Okay, this adorable little box is on my front porch and I feel like a rock star.  Samantha at Cheribundi had asked my permission to send me  free sports nutrition drink to review on my blog.  Very professional and all official like my little world matters to them.  Boba!  Everything is beautifully packaged.
The 40 to 50 raw cherries that are in each drink (depending on which variety you chose) are called 'America's Superfruit'.  In Cheribundi you find Vitamin A, Potassium, Iron Calcium and Whey Cherry, muscle-growing B-Vitamins.  The material says, whether you are trying to stay healthy or training for a triathlon you'll find a juice to fit your lifestyle.  As the drum roll rattled and I opened my treasure I decided my children would taste-test it with me simultaneously.  Cherries are tart - duh!  They didn't like the taste too much.  I did and I felt like I was swallowing nature.  Boba!  I did not test the results from each kind of drink meaning I did not run a triathlon after sampling the Whey Cherry for sports performance and recovery but a curious thing did happen.  I was nice ALL DAY LONG when I drank this each morning.  So much so my 11-year-old son said at 8:30 p.m. (I'm STILL smiling being all calm and helpful), "Wow, Mom.  We need to get you some more of that cherry stuff.'

I have no idea how much this stuff costs.  If you visit their website or become their fan on Facebook, you'll know  If it's not a small fortune, it's worth a try.  Popping cherries is the new thing, I hear.  You might be nicer all day.  You could blame it on the cherries or on Bikram and that I KNOW is boba!
What's boba for you?