Drenched

So if you follow me on Twitter and/or you’ve been keeping up with my blog, you know that I’m totally into hot yoga these days. I love that I sweat my ass off and feel like I’ve gotten a really good mind and body workout each and every time I leave the steamy studio. That being said, I had something happen to me yesterday that left me feeling both nauseous and even more in need of a very thorough washing afterwards.

Monday mornings are always completely packed at my hot yoga place — we’re talkin’ shit tons of body heat crammed into a little room that’s well on its way to exceeding 100+ degrees. I always go through at least two water bottles and two towels within an hour and a half class, and my clothes could be wrung out like a dishrag by the end of it. I even have to put a yoga towel over my mat to keep it from turning into a slip n’ slide. Yeah, it’s HOTTTTTTT in there alright!

As usual, yesterday morning’s class was filled with a very tightly packed bunch of sweaty bodies all trying to get their zen on. I was on my second towel by the time we finally got to the seated positions, since my first towel was completely soaked. I made sure to place MY towel right beside my mat so that it would be within easy reach. Just as I was transitioning onto all fours, I grabbed what I thought was my towel and wiped another round of sweat from my face, even wiping over the pool on my upper lip <shudder>. As I set the towel back down, the woman next to me said, “Uh, that’s actually MY towel that you just used.” And that’s when my skin began to crawl.

Did I mention just how very bad this woman’s body odor was? And should I tell you just how sopping wet her towel was? And do you recall that I wiped my FRICKIN’ MOUTH with the damn thing??!! I wanted to vomit and throw myself into a vat of sanitizer as quickly as possible. However, my yoga teacher is very particular about when you can and cannot exit the room. And naturally, this all went down right at an inappropriate time to walk out of the room. So, I had to sit there with this random woman’s stench all over my mother freaking mug! Torture!

I yada yada’d my way through the peace and namastes cause all I could think about was getting the hell out of there and into my shower. I must’ve scrubbed my face no less than 3000 times before I finally felt like it was clean. Talk about traumatic — not only did I get my sweat on, but I also got my neighbor’s sweat on too. I guess they don’t call it hot yoga for nothin’….