This morning my body was rested, my muscles warmed by a hot bath. I squeezed into yogini wear and looked in the mirror. Hmm. I snapped off my bra, and looked again. Oh hell no. I reached for two ‘inserts’ (like medieval breastplates, but made of foam, so softer) and slipped them under the two tank tops I was wearing. Better. I decided in a moment of extreme daring, to go sleeveless, something I have not done in almost 10 years. Over the years I have become very, very modest, which is to say; very, very shy, which is to say; very conscious of my ever changing 51 year old body. It feels like I am in puberty, but reverse. Puberty gives you fabulous boobs and a flat stomach no matter what the hell you eat. Now, I need a colonic for a flat tummy and my boobs look fantastic in a bra but not so much on their own. That’s not really accurate. My breasts are sort of in warrior with arms at the side instead of warrior with arms up. No, even that’s too harsh. My breasts are great, fantastic, I love them. Enough.
Yoga is wonderful for the journey from judgment to acceptance.
Class was going very well. I was feeling very happy that I could hold positions longer and I felt stronger today. I was down dogging, crouching like a tiger, coming up into cobra and sliding back into child’s pose effortlessly and…OH MY GOD…I looked down and saw that my inserts were slipping up and out of their assigned positions. Peeking up like curious turtles they threatened to pop completely out. In a panic, my mind raced; how am I going to nonchalantly put them and the girls back into place without anyone noticing? Scenarios flashing through my mind, my breath speeding up and then…two tiny trickles of sweat began to move down the inside of my arm. I gasped out loud. My yoga teacher, misunderstanding my deep inhale and ever positive, said ‘Yes, release your breath, let it all go’. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head, ‘women do not sweat, always wear lipstick, always wear a bra.’ This was the worst, most embarrassing experience, ever. Well, at day camp once when I was nine I walked out of the beach restroom with toilet paper still attached to my sandal and the roll in the stall. ‘Which experience was more embarrassing?’…MUST FOCUS. Ok. Deep breath, right leg straight up, swing it forward into warrior and all at once I shoved the inserts back in place, gave a quick shrug so the twins could settle in and arms up over my head…voila! I felt so accomplished, so clever, so strong. So this was yoga!
Mental note to self; wear a sports bra, skip the lipstick, sweat like you mean it.