I hoisted my hips up and back for my 419th downward dog during the first 15 minutes of my second-ever heated yoga session. This session was my first ever in Arizona, where the outside temperature was slightly warmer than Satan’s gooch. It was also my first session since making the transition from chilly Lisa to always 10 degrees warmer than those around me Lisa. As sweat dripped into my eyes, I got down to my hands and knees, grabbed my towel, and wondered whatintheverlovingfuck I was doing there.
HEATED Yoga – not for the Perimenopausal
HEATED Yoga – not for the Perimenopausal
HEATED Yoga – not for the Perimenopausal
I hoisted my hips up and back for my 419th downward dog during the first 15 minutes of my second-ever heated yoga session. This session was my first ever in Arizona, where the outside temperature was slightly warmer than Satan’s gooch. It was also my first session since making the transition from chilly Lisa to always 10 degrees warmer than those around me Lisa. As sweat dripped into my eyes, I got down to my hands and knees, grabbed my towel, and wondered whatintheverlovingfuck I was doing there.