Master closet

I'm standing in my closet staring at my clothes, willing my brain to work in order to get the day started, as Ricky steps on the scale. A small smile crosses his face as he steps off.

Someone's pleased with himself this morning.

"What's your number today?"

As he tells me (his business, so I'm not sharing) I can see him doing an internal victory lap. Lately his number's been riding a bit higher than he likes, so he's thrilled that his efforts have been paying off.

Our first Easter vs our most recent Christmas.

Curious about my own stats I momentarily abandon choosing between my usual work week wardrobe rotation. Seriously, I've been doing the whole pod-wardrobe-thing unintentionally for about a year now at the office.

I've been running 3+ miles a couple times a week, pretty honest with my food tracking (the hardest part is doing so when you know you've had a bad day - connect with me on MFP!) and doing yoga on a consistent basis so I'm feeling pretty confident.

The smooth metal surface of the scale reflects the lights above it as I step on. The numbers start processing so I try to hold extra still to make sure they're accurate. When they've stopped I glance down.

That doesn't look right.

I rub the sleep out of my eyes and step off to let it zero out. I check the scale to make sure it's not laying on a grout seam or something then I step back on.

Same results.

172.2.

I realize at this point in time I have one of two ways I can go: I can get upset and let this dictate my entire day or I can realize it's just a number in a moment of time and count on how I feel instead.

Not to mention I drank a ton of water last night and haven't had the first BM yet, so this could be the result of any number of things.

C's cries indicating he's ready to get the day started cause me to make a snap decision. I peek at the number again. Sigh, shrug, hop off the scale and decide to move on with the day.

Am I thrilled with the number? No. Not at all. Most times I feel as though I'm a skinny person living in a fat person's body, but I can't really be mad at my body (insert cliche list of all the amazing things my body is capable of here).

It serves its purpose and it's a constant work in progress.

So long as I'm not just sitting on my butt cramming my mouth full of chips all day long that is.

Basement

I recently purchased a Groupon for a yearlong subscription to a yoga video collection. I've always wanted to truly try yoga, but being as cheap as I can be I couldn't ever really stomach the cost associated with taking class in a studio. So when I saw the deal was only $12 for a year I was all over it.

A couple things I've noticed since starting my "practice."

• I'm not nearly as flexible as I was pre-C, but I can still put my palms flat on the ground while in forward front stretch so I'll get there again. Eventually. Maybe.
• My core is supa dupa weak. I can do planks and downward dogs, no problem. It's when I try some of the twisting one-hand-one-leg balances that I realize how far I have to go. At least in my basement no one can see me trying to stabilize all over the place. And the only one who could get hurt - aside from me because, well, klutz - is my cat if he decides to try to investigate at the wrong time.
• The teachers tend to be super chatty, but I guess that comes with being on video. You have to fill the silence somehow, and no one wants to hear the loud "dragon breathers" who are sometimes featured as students for the entire length of the class.
• I've forgotten how it feels to not just naturally be good at something. It's an odd feeling, but one I'm okay with. After all, the teachers in the video call it a practice because that's what it takes to get the hang of yoga. Practice. I just have to go back to my mindset from dancing days past where I don't know all of the technique by heart and have the openness to learn.

Am I ever going to be a true "yogi" who can do all of the awesome inversions and balances like it's nothing? Probably not. But what I will do is get better and stronger in my practice. And maybe, just maybe, become a more zen person in the process.

Namastae, y'all!