Honey, I Drowned the Kids.

Several things have changed for me personally in the last month. Josh and I, along with a bunch of our colleagues, left our former company and went to the rapidly-expanding Shine Solar. This has been the best move for us both individually and collectively, which is pretty awesome. My new job involves heading up and writing all content for Shine, as well as eventually serving as the personal concierge for our customers, once we get the Springfield branch hopping.

So, long story short, I used to have to dress up a bunch, and now I consider jeans and t-shirts my classy days, because it means that I changed out of my robe. And I have a job writing, for a wonderful group of people, and it's awesome.

Enough of all that good news. Let's get down to brass tacks and talk about the real story: I'm sweating a lot more.

This last month has also led to me being a little lax with my eating, which has led to me working out more, which has led to me telling myself I can totally eat  whatever, because I'm working out more. And all that has led to me noticing that my workout clothes are snug, which has led me to the only possible solution: invest in some of those no-muffin-top yoga bottoms by Teeki. Have you ever heard of Teeki? I'll give you a hint about this company: when you type in "teeki" in your search engine, the first result is "teeki sale." The price of muffin top elimination is steep.

But I digress.

I first began to notice the alarming muffin top development in the last month. But last week, the sweat dam broke with a vengeance.

I hate to sweat. A lot. And that's kind of funny considering my love of physical activity. And no, I don't think there are people out there who love to sweat, because come on now. Don't be a jerk.

Also, the class that I have begun to notice the alarming amount of sweat during is BUTI yoga, which is my favorite of all classes. It also has a call to action, in its sponsored Facebook ads, that opens with this:



So it started on a normal Wednesday, just like any Wednesday in any town. I went to my early-morning class and noticed attendance was markedly down, which gave everyone a ton of space. Super exciting for me, because I'm not at my most talkative at 5 a.m. Or anytime when I'm not on my second glass of wine.

The point is, there were fewer people, so it wasn't like the room was overheated from all of the bodies.

And yet.

I noticed it about halfway through the class, when the first beads of sweat hammered my mat. That usually doesn't happen until the very end, so I noticed and immediately mopped my face with my special yoga face towel.

Just kidding. It was my own shirt.

As soon as I did that, another splatter of drops replaced it and rained on my mat. Almost immediately, I slipped in my own sweat and almost went down. Being awake that early PLUS sweat PLUS humiliation was too damn much. But before I could roll up my mat and slip-walk indignantly out, I had a great idea for a "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids" sequel and had to stay to develop it.

For that reason, I got through the class.

Plot development for the win.

See, the mom is taking a hot yoga class, right? And the kids somehow make it all the way to her workout location and try to get her attention, right? But then they think they've been caught in a horrific, deadly waterfall of some kind and dodge giant, body-encasing droplets, only to realize that it is HER OWN SWEAT. Because she's a woman of a certain age. And she can't help it. And for the love of all that's holy, do not EVEN get her started on her muffin top. And don't bother her anymore, kids, because this is mommy's alone time and do you have ANY IDEA how hard it is in this day and age?

Long story short, the end of class flew by and I almost immediately forgot the sweat-horrors.

Until the next class, this morning. I once again got halfway through the class. And then, the bath commenced.

This was even worse. I tried to screen-write another movie in my head, but it was too busy pounding due to the enormous amount of water pouring off of it. I may have been hallucinating, but I swear that my sweat drops formed the Big Dipper. So then I got excited and tried to move my head so that my sweat formed words. The first one I tried was "Help." But the tribal drumming and insane cardio kind of made it impossible to control that, plus my urge to drop where I stood was pretty intense.

We got cold towels at the close of the workout, since it was Friday, but I swear mine sizzled about 30 seconds after I draped it across my entire face. When I got home, I could wring out my PONYTAIL HOLDER.

What even.

My point is, you should totally try BUTI yoga. And while you're doing that, I'm going to complete the order on these zero-muffin-top pants and maybe scale the sweating back a bit.

I've got my screen-writing career to launch, after all.




I start every day vowing to become healthier and end every day by zeroing out my fridge.
That's the kind of self-sabotage that forms the core of my being.
You know what I'm good at, though? Spinning words into a magical skein that envelopes you in success. Let's talk about that first, and if snacks end up happening, so be it.

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