What have I gotten myself into?

Last week I told my friend Brenda over a couple of drinks that I wanted to try a yoga class in Singapore, and she enthusiastically recommended her yoga studio to me.   She also warned that it was a Bikram yoga studio, or “hot yoga” studio.  What’s hot yoga, you ask?  It’s basically a series of 27 poses practiced for 90 minutes in a room that’s 105 degrees (or 40 degrees Celsius).

“No problem!” I told Brenda whilst holding a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon (pinky finger out, looking utterly pretentious I’m sure).  “I’ve been going to yoga classes in North Carolina for years, and the room always gets really hot.”

Brenda just looked at me in all my arrogant glory: “Okay!” she laughed.

I signed up for the beginner’s week pass, since it was only marginally more expensive than the single class fee.  Big mistake.  When I walked into the yoga studio on Saturday, I braced myself for the heat, but nothing could have prepared me for the intense odor of a room that has been heated to 105 degrees and filled with the perspiration of hundreds (maybe thousands?) of sweaty bodies over many years.  I can’t even really describe it to you.  And actually, I wasn’t prepared for the heat at all.  About 10 minutes into the class – and I’m not exaggerating here – there was literally a pool of water surrounding my feet from all of the sweat pouring out of my skin.

I wasn’t sure what was going to kill me first: the dizziness from the heat, the harsh voice of the drill-instructor yoga teacher, or the nausea from the stench!  But after 90 minutes I survived, re-hydrated and actually felt quite good for the rest of the day.

Determined to get my money’s worth, I went back the next day for another class and found it was a little easier, but no more enjoyable.  I still have 5 days left on my beginner’s pass, but I don’t know if I can bring myself to go back to the torture chamber again.

I think I’m over Bikram yoga.  I miss Lori!

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