Fucking Pervert

Today was a weird but good day.

I got my period-ish, guess that’s what all the hot flashes were about this past week.

Did the normal, laundry, errands, went for a run all before heading to the main event. A workshop in park slope called “restoring the soul”. It’s at that swanky studio I can’t afford. I had needed some odds and ends at the hardware store and the one near me was closed, but I recalled one on the same block as the studio.

Its really small, really well stock and to get down an isle you have to turn side ways, typical new york. The trains were a mess but as luck would ave it a coworker needed to Uber (her very first time) so I send her the link and got a credit. Knowing I did not want to be late I jumped on that free ride and went to the store first.

There was a youngish guy looking for a welcome mat. I was looking at a big wall of screws and I heard him but didn’t look at him. He was talking to an employee in the other isle. He must have seen me in my best yoga clothes and hell, I even had makeup on and the mat on my shoulder. He then comes up the isle and tries to squeeze by me. I turn sides ways and he bends down a bit and says very low, I just wanted to smell you.

My first reaction is to scream in my head, YouFUCKINGpervert! I catch myself and start to uncontrollably laugh. Me? I just called him a pervert???? Oh that irony was not lost. He paid for his stuff and left. Poor guy, if that’s his fetish, he missed out because it was before class and not after. Plus at this studio you leave smelling like expensive candles and essential oils, not dirty gym girl.

I guess this whole comical NY moment had me in a weird headspace for the class. I love restorative. I never feel better that after one of these classes. It’s as though I did the most difficult practice and I glow. Funny because it’s the practice of not using your muscles, the practice of letting go. Lots of guided meditation and props to allow you body to stay in the poses without the need to use your muscles.

It wasn’t until final relaxation that it made perfect sense to me.

Here is the cross-over between this very Yin practice and it’s more than just it is the practice of submitting. When you enter the class the teacher is your Dom/Domme, not doubt about that. You need to trust them that their voice will guide you. It’s like a hypnosis scene, similar to Sir when he tucks me in at night. Plus its the waiting. As you wait in the pose you have to be in a clear state of mind, like subspace. You have an eye bag so it’s like a blindfold. The only thing that exists is you and the teachers voice. It’s hard and a miracle. For the first time I was not hot.

I went to the teacher after and told her it was the first time in a week my hands were cold. My hands are normally always cold, but since the flashes got bad even when I’m not a full blast radiator I’m still warm. She told me a few positions I can do easily even in bed to cool the body down and a breathing exercise that will also help.

I left the studio with a clear head and feeling like a million buck. Not even the 4 trains it took to get home got me down.

I felt bad that I had to tell L and M that I couldn’t join them for dinner. The truth is I just wasn’t prepared. The plan was to go shopping and then see about food. It was so late I just thought that would mean next time. I have some cramps now, but I’m oddly happy to have them. It means I’m not there yet. Menopause isn’t in full effect and I’m still a partial viable female.

Today made me realize it’s the pervert in me that really loves restorative yoga. I think the pervert is winning over the type A competitor and that’s where my focus will go if I’m able to teacher train later in the year.

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