fat yoga

The window at fat yoga. This has been a wonderful course and I'm sorry it's over. Hopefully it will continue week to week. Loved getting back on the mat after 12 years. @fatyoga

After 12 years I am finally back on the mat and it feels so good. Before motherhood I used to attend this Iyengar class in Brunswick that was big and strenuous in an airy church hall with dark wooden floors. I wasn't as big then as I am now, but I still found yoga challenging. Still I persisted, it took me a while to find this class and to find my place within in it.  Once I did though, I was faithful and made quite good progress. Yoga seemed to act as a gateway drug for other forms of exercise such as walking and swimming, being active in general and I was as fit as I ever have been in adult hood. Good times. Then, and possibly related, I got pregnant and stayed pregnant. And yoga wasn't as good as it had been, there were too many poses I couldn't or shouldn't do and I resented spending half the class with my legs up the wall. And then, I found pre natal yoga. Once again I could do everything (almost) and it was exactly where I needed to be right then.

In the twelve years since birthing Grace I have tried to go back to yoga a couple of times. But I couldn't find a class where I felt at ease. The old Iyengar class didn't feel right and it was during family, bed, bath, dinner time. Other classes were too posey, didn't flow or just didn't gel.Some were ridiculously hard despite being pitched at all comers. And then just recently fat yoga became a thing here. But the classes were at not a great time for a single mother with a child too old for babysitters but too young to be left at night. And then there was the Saturday morning beginner's course. And just like pre natal classes, it was just right for just now. Now I'm hoping that a regular Saturday class starts up and thinking about what I could do at home.

Yoga, even what I am capable of right now, feels amazing. It's not just the poses, it's the breath and the intention. It's the being in your body in the now. It's the pushing just to the right edge (although I was a bit sore after yesterday's class, so maybe a bit too far). It's being with other fat women, in community, doing yoga together and not being the only fatty in the class. It's remembering my breath when I feel anxious or weird or stupid. It's many kinds of awesome. Hopefully it will also be a gateway to a new more active self.

a sink full of dirty dishes

BW 4/7


I'm doing an insta challenge, a black and white photo everyday for seven days about your life with no explanation. Each day I try and think about what sums up my day the best. The first day was waiting in the car before the job interview. All nerves and hopefulness. Dressed in my interview outfit which is all synthetic, hoping that I wouldn't break out in one of those random sweats that I seem prone to. I didn't. But I didn't get the job either. Which is a pity. It was the right amount of part time, well enough paid, close to home and I can't imagine being better suited or qualified for it. I think I may have failed the typing and computer test which is somewhat ironic given that is what I teach at the neighbourhood house. That night, before I even got the rejection email, I knew. We had pizza for dinner and I ate my disappointment in the most delicious carby potato pizza. As I said to dad on the phone, imagine if I had got the job and the house. Indeed. My attempts at life transformation feel like struggle and failure at this point. I am trying to be positive or at least, give no fucks, but honestly I feel a bit rejected and sad.

I have decided that although I have a lot to be grateful for (home, family, friends, no money worries and a dog who adores me) there is also much to be be disappointed about. It's ok to be honest about that. Being honest about it doesn't make me even more of a failure. In the parlance of today, it is what it is. Because I have lost a lot. My job, my sanity (on and off), my mother, my partner and best friend in the world. Also physical fitness, health, the creeping on of even more weight and the crumbling of my teeth. My early fifties have been the shits. Still, as my psychiatrist said today, I am more prepared to put myself out there than I was before. More active. We talked about hoping for the big transformation but she thinks that smaller progressive steps are more likely to be sustainable. I know this but I also think some of the big transformations (job, new house) would have been pretty damn exciting.

It is true that I am doing more. I have been attending a Fat Yoga class which is all kinds of wonderful and deserves a post of its own one day. And one day, I did fat yoga followed by a market stall where I got to watch parents drag children away from the toys I made three years ago. I sold some too and it was a social event as I shared the stall with a friend and met up with lots of people I knew. I know, two leaving the house type things on one day! I was pretty tired afterwards but it was the best kind of tired and I slept well, which is not always a given at the moment.

Anyway I gave no fucks about the dishes that day. They were still there the next. And then they weren't. Because I just did them without even procrastinating. Go me.

funny, not funny

Just dropped Rupert at the groomers. He was so anxious in the car but so happy when he got there!

So, the other weekend, I exited my cave and went to a comedy night at Grace's school. Normally I resist such events, not because I don't have a sense of humour, I do, but sometimes I find stand up comedy just a bit much too excitement. To be honest I'd rather laugh at Rupert chasing the hose or falling in a fountain, a Christian Hull video, a cat meme or something someone said. Sometimes I absolutely piss myself laughing.  Anyway as the compere and first comedian started off, it was kind of OK. He said "fucking" a lot. Then he told a joke about gold coast women and how they had so much work they looked turtles with barbie doll heads and then there was the joke about the old woman who lived next door and didn't close her blinds when she showered and gosh, she had pubic hair. And then there was a joke about scattering grandpa on the back lawn, only he wasn't cremated. There was a female comedian who did a dead beat mum act that I found funny in parts, especially the bits about cleaning and things clunking as they went up the vacuum cleaner. My vacuum always clunks. Every body laughed at everything because that is what you are meant to do at a comedy night, especially a school comedy night, but some of it felt, well not very funny. Then one of the male acts told a long joke that involved malnourished children in Africa, phone sex and pedophilia. There was a big exhale and a whole lot of people said "not funny". He really had gone too far and the comedian  acknowledged that, but I felt very uncomfortable, like he was using us for audience testing purposes and somehow like I was a prude for not finding the joke funny but I felt really, shouldn't anyone know that some things are just not funny.

There was a great singer at the end of the night, raffles and prizes and lots of good will and lots of chat. And a lovely moment when my friend and I congratulated ourselves on the work we did on the campaign that led to this very school. The school that has 240 year 7 enrollments next year. The school they said we didn't need. (Also not very funny.) I was mostly glad I went. Later at home in my pyjamas, it took me a long time to unwind and I kind of felt dirty. Like I might have laughed at things that were really not funny, just not funny at all, and I didn't like that feeling. I know comedy is subjective, like art and taste and so many things but surely it doesn't have to be violent and misogynist. Oh well. Live and learn.

The picture is one I took this afternoon when I dropped Rupert off at the dog groomers. He was so anxious on the way there but very happy once he arrived. Looking forward to seeing our velvet dog, who generates lots of love and lots of laughs that everyone can feel good about.