I don't have any tank tops (one of Blanche's strong suggestions because of my not-so-toned arms) so for my first class I walked into the room wearing a T-shirt and some shorts. It was pretty warm. I began to sweat just sitting on my mat. Then the instructor began the breathing sequence and oh how the streams of sweat began to fall. But when we began doing the actual poses? Well forget it. Within five minutes I could squeeze a puddle out of my T-shirt.
I noticed the yogis near the front, the more experienced ones, were wearing bikini bathing suit tops and sports bras. I also noticed the nicely sculpted abs of each of these scantily clad women. I thought how nice it would be to do these poses in this godforsaken sauna with just my sports bra on but Blanche started having a fit.
"Seriously?!?" she said as soon I suggested this. "C'mon! You've got a roll of fat right around your middle! How could you even think of letting anyone see that?"
"But jeesh Blanche, it's hot," I said. "I'm dying here."
"Do you want to embarrass yourself?" Blanche replied. "Do you want the whole class to wonder why you're showing off your fat?"
You're probably wondering who this horrible Blanche is. You, dear reader, would probably never say anything like this to one of your girlfriends, and neither would I, but Blanche is my lizard and she doesn't seem to have a problem hurling the insults, especially about my body.
We all have this part of ourselves that tries to protect us from what it perceives as frightening even though this unproductive fear often inhibits our growth (or, in this case, my need to be comfortable in a heat like the Amazon jungle). Enter: the lizard.
In her book Steering by Starlight, Martha Beck nicknames this scared voice inside of us "the lizard" because she relates it to the part of our brains we've kept with us since the reptilian age. This part of our brains says "Run!" or "Attack!" even when there's no real danger to send us into this fight or flight mode. Beck encourages her readers to name their lizards, to even find or draw a picture of them so that they can be better viewed as what they truly are-frightened parts of us that erroneously believe we need to be protected from some imagined danger.
I've noticed that Blanche is often most scared of what other people think of me. Her biggest fear, it seems, is me becoming a social outcast.
Thank God I've got another, more benevolent voice inside my head who usually chimes in just as Blanche is going into a frenzy. I call her my 85 year-old self and my next post will be all about her, but for now, I'd just like to share with you her wise words as I attempted to do "The Eagle" pose while torrents of perspiration ran into my eyes.
"Take off your shirt and be comfortable," she said, as Blanche screeched in horror, "And watch what happens."
So I did and several things happened. The first one being that I was immediately more comfortable and my shirt served as a nice substitute for a face towel. Soon after, I noticed that I actually looked pretty good doing the poses. My form was great and all the hard work I'd done at the gym had paid off. I could see muscles in every part of my body, even in my abdominal area.
But that's not even the best part. Some of the girls in the back of the room (the newer students like myself) had also naively come to class with T-shirts on. Perhaps they have a lizard like mine who tells them not to wear sleeveless shirts. At any rate, once I took off my shirt and therefore stated with my actions that it was more important for me focus on the yoga instead of on Blanche, others followed. In that moment, I felt like the leader of the lizard-disbelievers.
My 85-year-old self just smiled.
*Name and describe your lizard. If you want to get really creative, find a picture that represents your lizard. One of my fellow coaches-in-training has a great post on this on her blog.
This is Blanche. Notice her smug, know-it-all pose.
I *love* Bikram studios. There's one not far from here and I have been thinking about getting off my duff and going over there; the sequence is so predictable that the whole thing turns into meditation time (except for the ones where I tend to fall over).
ReplyDeleteAnd yay you for ignoring Blanche's Issues. Louise thinks you're quite irresponsible, which is probably a good thing, although she's rather flattered by the link. :) Thank you!
My lizard's name is Bessy. She hides in the bushes of the desert. She has spikes all over her but they're small so she doesn't do too much damage; they're just for show, really. When Bessy is scared or doesn't like something, she hides. She tells me it's easier to avoid certain situations and that I'm not capable of dealing with a lot of things. This is entirely untrue, of course. :)
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