What was I thinking?

I hadn't seen Elizabeth in what felt like ages. We both had babies now. And they needed to meet.

We met for lunch a few weeks ago and made up for lost time. I brought her her baby shower gift I had bought forever ago--a baby wrap--And we caught up over tacos.

Our conversation spanned from postnatal yoga, to careers, husbands, and of course our babies. When it was time to go we promised each other we wouldn't go this long without meeting up again, and tentatively planned play dates for the near future. So when I got a text from her about getting together for anti-gravity yoga I knew it just had to involve babies. To be sure, I texted her.

"Let's do it. Sounds awesome, what is it?"

She texted me back saying it's yoga in sling-like hammock things. In my head I read "wraps" and "sling" and was like "woah, yoga with babies, score!"

She signed us up for a month of free classes every Monday at 6:30.

"PM right?" I asked her.

No. AM. Yikes!

When I got home to search for anti-gravity yoga and find out exactly what I had signed myself up for my jaw hit the floor. This is what we were going to do...

There are no babies in this picture. ADULTS in sling-like hammock things. OH!

Normally I don't like to do things on my day off without my daughter but I thought this experience would be good for me to have a bit of alone leisure time, and get a real workout. Plus it would be early and she wouldn't be awake yet.

The night before our class I slept in my yoga clothes and pre-programed my GPS to take me straight there in the morning. The less thinking I'd have to do when my alarm went off at that crazy hour, the better. I had worked until 11 that night, and watched an amazing episode of Big Love, so I was going to sleep late. And I knew I'd be hurting in the morning.

When my alarm went off I texted my friend to make sure she was still going. I didn't want to show up with four complete strangers if she decided to sleep in. She told me she was still game, so I slipped my shoes on and headed out the door.

When I got there the scene was as scary as I imagined. Silk cloth hanging from the ceiling in a small room with hard floors. There were six small hammocks. One for the instructor and one for each of the students.

We introduced ourselves. Four of the five of us were either my friend or a friend of my friend. I was glad she had recruited others to go in case I decided to bail out early, faking an injury.

Our instructor told us if we were pregnant, had high or low blood pressure, we shouldn't do the upside down exercises until we got a doctor's note. None of us were pregnant--or knew it, so we were all in the clear.

"Grab your sheet by the end and swing it back and forth," our instructor told us all. We watched as she wrapped her hands around the end of the sheet and jumped in. Then we each took turns doing it ourselves.

The first few poses involved wrapping the sheet around us and sitting or laying comfortably in the hammock. "This is nice!" I thought to myself. What a relaxing way to spend my morning. We went through the motions of getting used to moving the fabric, and it sliding beneath us, how to grasp it in our arms to move and stretch certain ways.

"Now grab your fabric and place it behind you at your hips," she said. Cool, I had that. "Now trust the fabric, you're going to flip over like this." I watched as she did a Lady Gaga move and once again my jaw dropped. I couldn't hold in my laughter. She wants me to do what? This is me we're talking about. The one who broke the floor during an attempt at chair dancing. I knew if I were to try this my face would wind up in pieces.

I watched as everyone else did it first. They looked graceful and natural. I thought for a moment. Did I really want to attempt this? Why did I sign that waiver saying I wouldn't sue if I died? I contemplated excuses, a bathroom break... Announcing indeed I am pregnant... then I thought how easy it is in postnatal yoga to sit out an exercise because "Oh, baby's gotta eat!"

All of this went through my head in a matter of seconds, when I decided I'd just do it. I closed my eyes, grabbed onto the fabric for dear life and flipped over.

Hanging upside down wasn't comfortable. Our instructor told us to breath and gave us all sorts of directions of things to do with our legs and hands but all I could think of was how my head was sure to explode at any moment... What if blood starts coming out of my ears?... Crap, I've gotta fart... My daughter is so weird for enjoying hanging upside down. And kids like to hang from the monkey bars? Why do they do it?

"Yea yea yea, breath, extend, blah blah blah, can I sit up yet?" I couldn't be the only one so uncomfortable hanging upside down.

After that I knew I could handle any part of this workout. But would you believe it got harder?

We did push ups with our legs extended--feet swinging (not intentionally) in the hammock with our arms on the ground. I realized I don't have any upper body strength when my arms gave way and I face planted into the cement floor. I couldn't help but laugh. I was falling apart. I wanted to say that I had just had a baby eight months ago--The reason for my inadequacy--but my friend had had her baby months after me and she was doing just fine.

I survived the rest of the class by the skin of my teeth. But really, I was just the comedic relief. I couldn't hold my laughter in as I watched everyone balance perfectly on one leg from my wobbly and stumbly point of view.

The woman next to me kept laughing at me too as I nearly grabbed her a few times to break my fall.

When it was finally over we laid straight back in our hammocks for a restoration pose--My favorite part of yoga. I thought to myself if I'd ever come back.

I didn't go a second time today. I'm far too sleep deprived this week, but I'm still registered for next week. Now that I'm mentally prepared for what's coming I may be able to try it again and not be such a whimp. Lawd knows I need some kind of workout to get fit again, and by golly I'm gonna do it. Even if that means impersonating Lady Gaga every now and then.

Here's an example of what we did. I did everything in this video minus a pose or two. NO LIE!

If you're brave enough (or stupid enough--I'm not sure which I am yet) to try it you can look here to see if there's a place near you that offers it! All I can say is good luck!

Not pregnant. Just fat

Question: If a friend of yours exclaimed that she ripped her jeans would your first reaction be to ask if she's pregnant?

I'm asking because this happened to me, and it's the second time this question has come up (my husband's funeral is next week) and I'm really starting to feel self conscious.

First of all, breastfeeding ain't helping me loose weight. I mean, I know I shouldn't rely on it to do all of the work for me but I have to admit, that was one perk I was looking forward to that I don't seem to be reaping the benefits of.

Next, I'm extremely bloated. Like so bloated I'm always sucking my stomach in when I'm wearing tight shirts to keep myself from looking pregnant. I need a girdle people.

I walked by a wall of mirrors at Hobby Lobby a couple of months ago and wondered if I was starting at carnival mirrors. Seriously? Is my gut that huge? I snapped this photo and texted it to a friend freaking out, wondering if maybe I was actually pregnant with twins last year but one didn't come out yet and is just really really overdue.

I took a pregnancy test to be sure.

Negative.

I'm a hypochondriac, so even though I'm breastfeeding, not ovulating, on birth control, and can't get pregnant from making out, I still worry I am. Why else would I look this way? Why did I manage to wear my size 4 jeans through my entire pregnancy but rip them last week?

Why, even though I'm eating less cheeseburgers and french fries than I have in years and actually cooking home cooked meals, do I have a beer belly? I've never even tasted beer (unless you count root beer)!

Why are my workouts with baby not slimming me down? Now I've gotta run too? Like real, hard, exercise? Yuck!

I took two more pregnancy tests to be sure.

Still negative.

I once saw a guy on the Discovery channel that had elephantitis and his face got really really big. Maybe I have that in my stomach?

I was hoping I'd have an excuse. But I'm not pregnant. And I don't have elephantitis. I'm just fat.

I'm no longer in denial. It's time I do something drastic. Commit myself to something. A gym pass just won't cut it. It's not enough to motivate me. I think I'll join Stroller Strides. It's not Jenny Craig, Weight or Watchers, but it's cheaper than getting lipo.

Mommy and Me Yoga

Sometimes I feel like I'm loosing my mojo.

I used to be the girl who wanted more than anything, to be extremely successful in my career. Now more than anything I want to schedule play dates and plan little activities for Lil' J and myself.

Instead of scheduling after work meetings I'm scouring for emerging teeth. Instead of shopping for suits I'm on the hunt for the coolest new infant toy. 

I think it's important to have something as an escape. Especially being a woman, and a mom, and having so many duties to fulfill.

Funny enough, my ideal "getaways" tend to include my daughter instead of exclude her. What can I say, she's kinda a cool kid. Plus I already feel guilty for missing so much when I'm away from her at work.

I distinctly remember my mom waking up early to exercise when I was younger. My sister and I would put on our bathing suits (because they were our version of workout clothes, hello!) and exercise to a Mickey Mouse workout show while our mom walked on the treadmill.

I think that was my inspiration for wanting to experience something similar with my daughter.

When I was on maternity leave I researched things I could do with my baby. Lil' J loves to get out of the house. Having gone on seven flights in her first eight weeks of life, she was used to getting out, and I think she still craves it now because of that.

I don't really like being confined to my house for more than a couple of days either so I made a list of things in my community that we could go and do together. One of the things I didn't get to do during maternity leave was postnatal yoga. You bring your baby to class with you and exercise with them.

I was bummed we didn't get to do it during my leave, but luckily there's a class Tuesday mornings, on my day off, so we can still go.

We were running late our first week, but made it in time for introductions. Lil' J was the only baby with a bow and leg warmers--We were a little overdressed. But we still fit in. I think.

I was amazed at how full the class was. There was a mom with twins, and 15 other moms in the class!

Our yoga class on Halloween week

The first good half hour is dedicated to exercises just for mom, and your baby is below you watching you on their blanket. The second half is doing singing and exercises using them, then the last twenty minutes or so is for baby yoga, where you do stretches for them, and where you do a restoration walk, and pose with them.

There's some time to socialize at the beginning, middle, and end of class. I at first sometimes felt a twinge of jealousy while the stay at home moms planned a play group meet up during the time I'd be at work. But who knows, maybe one day I'll be able to join in.

I loved it so much my first week I bought an 8 week pass that same day. I'm surprised at how much of a workout I get, and how much of a bonding experience it is for my daughter and I. It's makes me a little sad at the same time though, because I doubt I'll get this experience with baby number two. ... Which isn't on the way, or anything, but you know how I plan ahead.

The place we go for yoga has a special class for moms with their new babies, then a class for moms with crawlers, and one with toddlers. If we can budget for it I hope to keep going. It's $17 a class, which is kinda steep, especially since we go once a week. But with the pass it goes down to about $13 a class. Which is still a lot when you consider my husband's gym pass is something like $25 a month. I tell myself I deserve it though, and take joy in the splurge.

So here I am. Gone are the days of using my Carmen Electric Striptease Workout DVDs, and welcome to the days of mommy & me fitness.

I'm not sure if my mojo is going, or coming. Or maybe it's just transforming. Either way, I think I like the way it's moving.

If you have a baby I'd highly recommend looking into postnatal or mommy and me yoga it's SO FUN! So fun in fact, that I just bought a mommy and me workout DVD called Infantastic Baby Reps, and I love it too! I also rented Infantastic's Dance Baby Dance from the library after reading the glowing reviews! It was $25 so I passed on buying it at the time.

I want to share my postnatal workout with you so I'm going to send an Infantastic Baby Reps DVD to a blog follower who comments on this post before next Thursday night! You've gotta be a follower cause I'm buying is for you! Somewhere with your comment, just let me know you'd like to be entered!

The Stripper Stint

As I've said before... I don't particularly like to exercise. I don't find it fun, it's hard and often boring to me. Lately I've discovered Exercise on Demand and it's changing my life! One program it has is "Carmen Electra's Striptease Workouts"! It brought flashbacks of last summer when I decided to become a stripper. I was working in Atlanta, GA for the summer and missing my husband, who was still in Utah. Here's the experience I documented:

***July 17th 2007 at 9:33 PM***

Dear Diary,

I never exercise, I hate it. A gym pass would be worthless to me because I know I’d never go. I hate running, I’m convinced I was born with shin splits, and I can’t run 20 yards without getting a side ache. I've been told it's because of my breathing or because of my shoes but practicing "in through the nose, out through the mouth" and a nice pair of shoes later the aces are still there.

I think workout tapes are pretty cheesy but I know if I could find one that looks fun I’d probably try it. By recommendation I was turned on to Carmen Electra’s “Aerobic Striptease Workout DVD’s” I’m too indecisive to just pick one so I bought the whole box set. I gave my husband a quick call to make sure I had his approval.

“Hey honey, you know how I never exercise?”
“Yea?”
“Well, I found some DVD’s that I think will help me to exercise, I promise I’ll use them.”
“Oh yea?”
“Yea, it’s ‘Carmen Electra’s stripping workout DVD’s”
“Ok, get it!”
“Really? It’s $37 is that ok?”
“Oh yea, that’s fine, go ahead and get it!”

That went easier than I thought.That night I watched the run through of each of the routines at a friend’s house. We both laughed and said we’d try it that weekend.

You know how a lot of times when we say we’re going to do something… And turn over a new leaf we have to go all out? Like, when men say they’re going to fix up the yard so they go out and buy a new lawn mower and all new lawn equipment? Or when they say they’re going to repair something and they go and by a whole new tool set to do it? Well, the same concept goes here. I had to get a stripper pole.

The next day I began researching stripper poles. I found they ran between $85 and $300. I looked into the $85 one. I called the husband again and convinced him I HAD to have a pole to get really get into this exercise thing. “Perfect” I thought. It comes apart into three pieces (easy to transport back to Utah), and I can buy it at a Spencer’s store here and practice on it.

Despite the mixed reviews saying it’s a great party feature, while not very stable I took my chances. At the check out line I was very adamant about making sure I could return the item if it didn’t work how I wanted it to. “

No problem, so long as all of the pieces are inside the box.”Great, I took it home (to another friends house) and temporarily installed it.

“Dangit,” I screamed. “It only goes up to 8 feet six inches. How tall is your ceiling?” I demanded. “Nine feet,” my friend told me. I immediately got on the phone and called my husband.
“How tall are our bedroom ceilings?”
“???…I don’t know.”
“Well, what’s your guess?” I pressed.
“....Ummm…”
“Think it’s 9 feet?”
“Oh, no, it’s not that tall”
“Are you sure?”
“Yea”
"Ok thanks.”

I moved the pole to a lower ceiling in my friend’s apartment… the hallway was a good testing height. I extended it to meet the ceiling, tightened it and made sure it was straight. Once I was satisfied I decided to take it for a spin. I put my leg around the pole and… SMMMMMMAAASH down it comes… I tried it again and got the same result. So back in the box my pole went.

I immediately began searching for another pole. $50 on Craigslist, a tall black stripper pole that’s “suction mounted." She's selling it because her ceilings are too tall... Good reason, it makes me feel a little better knowing it hasn't been through too much already (or so I hope).

I email her and get a response the next day. I’ve decided to return the Peekabo Pole to Spencer’s the next day.

***The next day***

I’m next in line at Spencer’s when another employee comes up to me with a 'what are you doing here' look on her face.

“Can I help you?” She asks me.
“Yea, I just want to return this.”
“You can’t return that it’s an adult item....”

I’m going to spare you this whole conversation but basically, my normal timid/non-confrontational self would have walked away and started crying but this time I went off. I was not about to loose $85 for a piece of crap... Besides, what am I going to do with TWO stripper poles?

Long story short, I was able to return the item for a full refund… On a Spencer’s gift card (never use your debit car at Spencer’s cause they won’t give you cash back unless you ring it up as credit.) I sold the card on eBay for $75. I could take loosing $10, no biggie.

Meanwhile, I have this other Long-A stripper pole I bought from a lady in Atlanta sticking out from the trunk of my car through to the drivers seat. I bring it inside to experiment but I soon find my ceilings are too short. The woman I bought it from said it was 7 feet tall. I took in into the carport (no... not a garage, so all of the neighbors were watching me install my stripper pole in my driveway) and extend it to the ceiling there. I get it to stay and I tug a little. I wasn’t totally satisfied. I went into the house and grabbed a bar stool. I came back out, stood up on the stool and leaped for the pole… Imitating what a fireman (not stripper) would do. It was still standing!! I know the people across the street had to have been wondering what the heck I was doing but I didn't care. I am so happy at this point. I lean the pole up against my bedroom wall for a few weeks and finally one weekend I get ready to mail it home.

I go to USPS and ask if they have any 7 feet tall boxes.—They don’t. And they can’t mail anything that tall either, so I go to the UPS store. The guy at the counter was already in a bad mood… I could tell when I walked in, no smile, no “how are you?” just a grumpy “I’ll be with you in a moment.” I proceed to ask him if he has any boxes 7 feet tall.

“No, but I can make one,” he said. “What are you mailing?”
“A pole.”
“How big is it?”I hold out my hangs in a circle, trying to demonstrate its circumference.“I can go get it for you,” I told him.

He just kind of nodded, but I went out and got it. I brought it in and he stared at me like I was crazy.

“What is this, some kind of pole to hold a truck up?” He asked me.
“No... It's just a pole” I was reluctant to tell him the truth.

He asks me how valuable it is (I guess it's some shipping question). I tell him $50, and he gives me a weird look. He measures the pole and it comes to 110 inches. I have no clue how tall that is.
“Eight feet five inches,” he tells me.

'Seven feet my A' was my first thought... The girl who sold me the pole was just trying to get rid of it!'Ok, cool, mail it!' I’m thinking. But he doesn’t look too happy. I tell him I still want it mailed and he takes it back to the back to make me a special box.

“I’m curious as hell to know what this is and why it’s not very valuable." It wasn't a direct question so I ignored it, hoping he'd drop it."What is this?” He finally just asked.

Poor guy, I didn’t want him to think I was some kind of terrorist so I confessed.

“Well, my husband lives in Utah...” I’m trying to think of a way to put it. “And… Well… It’s a stripper pole, and he didn’t want to drive home with it so I’m mailing it.”
“Oh.” Is all I get from him.
“So now you’ve seen it all huh?” I ask.
“Oh no, I’ve seen a lot weirder.” I was hoping he’d give me an example to make me feel better but he didn’t.

So there went another $70 for shipping ($30 for actual shipping and $35 for making my a custom box).

***Later that week***

I’m “exercising” I’m learning a chair dance Carmen promises will get my husband off the couch and in the bedroom. It’s about 2 o’clock in the morning. I live in a duplex and I’m trying to keep really quiet so I don’t wake up the guy next door.

So Carmen is telling me to sit on the chair then lean back and put my feet in the air and toggle them back and forth... It's hard to explain... But anyway, I have one of my hands on the ground to keep my balance (and that's what she's doing too). Now she’s telling me to make sure I keep my butt centered on the chair so I don’t loose my balance and fall over. Now I’m thinking ‘how am I going to loose my balance when my hand is on the floor?’ Well, I don’t understand physics, and I hate it anyway, and no sooner than that question came to my mind, next thing I know WHHHHHAAAAAAM!!

It’s the loudest noise I’ve ever heard, and I’m on the ground, chair and all on top of me. I could have sworn my butt broke through the hard wood floor cause I hit it so hard. My immediate reaction was silence—I was praying my neighbor didn’t hear. I was imagining hearing him getting up and yelling to me, asking what happened, and I really didn’t want to explain to him that I had just lost my balance and fell off my chair while I was practicing a lap dance routine.

I sat there for a few moments in silence (well, besides the sound of Carmen, she was still going) then I started to laugh. I turned the DVD off… I was done for the night.

**Now**

As I read this right now for the first time since I posted it last year I laugh at my dedication. Just like the unfinished handy projects and resolutions husbands and wives make to take better care of things around the house... I fell through with my determination to be my husband's stripper. But who knows, it's 2009. Perhaps I'll add it to my list of resolutions.