Hung the F*ck Over.
*Originally posted May 18, 2016
After my Saturday of health and inspiration in Brighton I hopped back on the train to London and the merriment continued into the evening. My friends Garrett and Sarah got married and I was invited to the evening party. I got home from Brighton, took a shower, put on a dress before Tom and I headed out for an evening of drinking, dancing, and cheese. I don’t know if this is everywhere or just among my friends, but it seems very in vogue at weddings instead of having a wedding cake, people are having cheese towers. This is not a cheese cake. It is a tower of cheeses. Brie, stilton, cheddar that is then cut up and devoured with chutney. Sarah and Garrett had one because they are champions. I did a little dancing and I had a lot, A LOT of cheese and champagne. I apologize for nothing.
On Sunday morning….erm….afternoon…I woke up feeling fine actually. Because of all the sweating in Bikram Yoga, I get drunk faster when I’m practicing all the time. It makes me a cheap date. You’re welcome. I was surprised that I didn’t feel bad when waking up. Maybe yoga, makes one immune to hang overs. Huzzah! What a find! It wasn’t until after Tom and I went to a cafe for a full English Breakfast and coffee, that I made it toBikram Yoga Highbury & Islington for the last class of the day at 5pm. I had forgotten my water bottle and when I went to purchase one at the studio, that’s when I realized I hadn’t had any water all day. I drank champagne all night long and coffee all morning. I. Was. Fucked.
All the work, all the tools that I had gained in B.A’s class the day before had to be left for another day. It was all I cold do just to stand there and sweat. My body lied to be. It turned out I was hung-over. It just decided to surprise me with this news once I was in the hot room. Traitor. The one thing that did come away from Sunday’s class is though, I felt horrible and felt I performed horribly, I didn’t beat myself up for it. I just looked in the mirror and did the best cobra pose I could muster. It may be the first “bad” class this 30 day challenge that I didn’t get mad at myself for. There were no pretty postures for me nor physical break throughs. I would say simply accepting that I was in a state and doing my best despite of it counts as a mental break through. It’s not a shiny pretty break through, but it might be a more important one. I’ll take it.