I do not <3 Hot.

Okay, so I don’t have a lot of time here. I got places to be (read: my bed). I was helping a friend out, though, so whatever.

I figure I may as well just tell you that my initial foray into hot yoga did not warm my heart nearly as much as it warmed my skin.

In addition to my profuse sweating, which I actually found quite amusing (honestly, a summertime Primary Series with a full class and I’m pretty much just as sweaty. Almost.). Those towels went IMMEDIATELY into the wash. Though they didn’t stink (Adam’s sports gear reeks to high heaven, but I have now proven that my sweat don’t stink).

I mean, I was DRENCHED. My attitude was not unlike the cat in that link, btw. Yeah, that’s right: I was angry. For no particular reason. I was just really angry on the inside (as opposed to going on a sweat-induced rampage, knocking over everyone nearby, which is about 60 quadrillion people). They’d be easy to take down with their LOCKED KNEES. That’ll teach ’em to LOCK THEIR KNEES!

The only times I wasn’t really angry was when I was mildly concerned that my heart rate was becoming unnaturally fast and heavy, as well as when I was counting the rows and being generally amazed that this many people take hot yoga. On a Sunday. At 3:45 pm. I think my classes are way more fun (and more demanding), plus they’re at a reasonable time. Oh, and it’s not like the bloody Sahara desert. Oh, and they’re way cheap, compared to the HOT CLASS of SWEAT.

Also, someone sweated on me. I nearly barfed/cried/punched them in the throat.

I may have anger management issues. We’ll see. 9 more classes to take on this card…