uber-me

my life

i feel pretty naked today without my ginormous backpack and yoga mat. i scurried around this morning thinking about what i needed to pack and realized that i didn’t need to bring anything.

i left the office to find lunch and realized the lunch world was my oyster because i didn’t have to worry about anything that would cripple me in class. i could eat onions and beans and salsa and have too many farts in my fart machine because i wouldn’t be subjecting anyone in a 105 degree room to the consequences of my poor food choices.

if i really really wanted to i’m sure i could make it to class tonight.

but i won’t.

the hotbox will always be there. the work will never be done.

i had started the challenge with the idea that having a deadline meant that when i reached the end i would be different somehow. all of my expectations were surface stuffs. with all this sweating i was sure to be skinnier. with all this yoga i was sure to be more enlightened. with all this work i was sure to come out of this looking like this caricature that i have of myself in my minds eye. i’ve always had this idea of what my ideal me would look like and what she’d be like and basically she’d be smarter, prettier, thinner, special. she’s sorta been in the back of my head my entire life, this uber make-believe me.

30 days in front of a mirror contorting yourself into poses that make you look your least attractive repeatedly shows you what you really look like and who you really are and how awesome and amazing you are even as you’re dripping buckets and and choking down nausea.  every time i looked at myself i had to let go of this idea of uber-me. i would never be uber-me because uber-me is not real and uber-me is a really awful goal to have.  becoming uber-me would mean the real me wouldn’t exist.

just typing that out made me choke up a bit and get sad. why would i want to get rid of real me and replace me with someone else?

it’s a lot of work to keep bringing myself back to this realization. it’s a practice. it’s parallel to everything that happens in the hotbox. the conversations you have with yourself as you look at yourself in the mirror and continuously fall out of standing bow. the negotiations you make with yourself in class when things get really difficult.  “if i do this pose i can sit this one out. is it cheating if i decide not to lock my knee even though i can. yes. yes. it’s all cheating. the only person you are cheating is yourself so if you’re ok with that go ahead. no one will stop you. grab your foot again because you can. kick back because you can. loving yourself is not short changing yourself.”

the work will never be done until i can remove all doubts about myself. to do this i need to break up with uber-me and send her somewhere else because there’s not enough room in my life for the both of us.

oh.  and this.

“I was in yoga the other day. I was in full lotus position. My chakras were all aligned. My mind is cleared of all clatter and I’m looking out of my third eye and everything that I’m supposed to be doing. It’s amazing what comes up, when you sit in that silence. “Mama keeps whites bright like the sunlight, Mama’s got the magic of Clorox 2.” – Ellen DeGeneres

i’m glad i’m not the only one who sings commercial jingles to herself in savasana.

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