Life List: Hungover Yoga. Check.

I feel sufficiently recovered from last night.  Finally.


Yoga wasn't what I thought it was going to be.  I felt fine when I got up.  I did take 2 precautionary aspirins just in case.  I took in a large quantity of water to offset the furball-esque inhabitant in my mouth.  I had a small bout of bathroom issues, so Dr. Pepto was in order.  But other than that, I felt great.  Nothing to really recover from when all we did was take in the live music at Snappers last night.


But then I was on my mat.  All the bending, folding, head-moving rotations made me feel oh-so-special.  I was getting hot, but not sweating.  I couldn't stand to be in class after the first 20 minutes.  I knew I had made a massively wrong decision when I thought that yoga wasn't that bad of an idea.  I'd forward fold and get the taste of bile on the back of my throat.  Now while I love the fact that playing with my toes in a stretch because my hamstrings loosen up considerably, the fact that I was doing hypno-birthing breathing techniques while focusing on my knees like I was in the middle of a Yurt-birthing center in Berkeley.  Not good.


I contemplated walking out a couple times.  Or settling into Child's Pose.  But I didn't want to be a bitch so I toughed it out.  Yes, too proud to be hungover and nauseous in yoga.  Because I have a reputation to uphold.  So never let them see you bleed.


The 50 yard walk home was excruciating.  I almost called Mr. Wookie to pick me up.  It was THAT bad.


So after a healthy American breakfast of bacon, eggs, and hash browns.  Because we love America in this house. And grease sounded good.  And I had toast too.  Can't forget the toast.


And now I've napped, which I think was the pinnacle need of recovery.  Mr. Wookie claims I could have been still drunk this morning before going to yoga.  Well in that case, I knocked 2 things off my Life List.  Score.