It's funny what you'll commit to after three glasses of wine and some
tapas - like saying, "sure, I'd be more than glad to do yoga for 90 minutes in 110 degree heat."
Actually, I've done Bikram yoga before. It's a sequence of 24 postures, done in the same order in a heated room. It promises you'll "release toxins," which basically means you'll sweat. A lot.
I was nervous because the last time I did it was more than five years ago, and I was in much better shape back then. I stopped going the day I walked out of class and my contacts literally shriveled up into balls and popped right out of my eyes - I assume from dehydration. I hated to think what was happening to the rest of me. My friend Janice continued to go, until the day she started to pass out on the drive home and had to be taken to the hospital in an ambulance.
Maybe it's like childbirth: you forget the pain. Because suddenly, I remembered how I'd never been more limber than when I was doing Bikram yoga. My focus was astounding. My skin radiant.
Anyway, we did it. We survived. I didn't wear my contacts so having them pop from my eyes wasn't an issue - plus since I was staring in a mirror the entire time, it was nice to have my edges blurred a bit.
