Yoga-latte and a chocolate glazed, please

Today I decided, as I gazed adoringly at my lovely round belly, carefully cultivated by my strict adherence to my summer schedule of sloth and gluttony, that perhaps it was time to get moving. It was a glorious vacation, rife with days spent lounging by the sea, snoozing on swings under shade trees, floating buoyantly and effortlessly on salty waves.

My body is my temple and I honored it reverently with delicious pastries and delectable cream based dishes. I hugged warm bread to my tanned body to ward off the evening chill on the beach, and hydrated myself with fermented grapes and trashy reads. Loveliness. All loveliness.

“All things in moderation” my yoga pants reminded me as I slipped them on to head to class, only to have the waistband roll rapidly down to my hips upon executing the first fold of the night. I mumbled my apologies to those unfortunate souls in front of me who’s glimpse of my flopped out midsection and subsequent splattering sound as it bounced off of my knees and slapped me in my face served to interrupt their personal quests for inner peace.

Okay. THAT was a wake up call. I’m guessing that somewhere between feeding frenzies and naps this summer, I should have made a greater attempt to actually practice what I preach and balance my activities (or lack there of) with a few more runs, certainly more walks, and a bit more yoga. Well, today as I sweated through a six mile run at what can only be described as a really fast walk while LOOKING like I was running, and gasping because my endurance has suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous eating, I determined to woo myself back into acceptable health. I decided to add an evening yoga/Pilates fusion class (I LOVE this class) prepared to use every modification suggested, as a gift to my inner Elizabeth, the girl still snuggling the donut at the back of the class).

If anyone scoffs at yoga as a legit work out, I would like to invite you to stand near me next time as my towel stooge, and attempt to keep my from flooding the studio with my sweat. It’s no joke, people. The bearded guy next to me grabbed a life vest midway through class after glancing nervously and repeatedly at me during the back track. Well, I survived today and I’m happy to report that as soon as my kids realize I’m still sitting crippled and drenched in the car in our driveway and drag me inside for a shower and Tylenol, I will be back for more tomorrow. Now, will someone PLEASE let my family know where I am?!?!? Namaste and pass the yoga-latte and the chocolate glazed while I wait to be rescued.


Published by


Blogger, life enthusiast, queen of chaos. Author and star of #closertocrazy, and Hairbeast Productions. I live in north central Massachusetts on a tiny misshapen, entirely accidental farm. Life is always an adventure! Available for freelance writing and social media Brand Building consultation Contact me at to discuss projects and fees

2 thoughts on “Yoga-latte and a chocolate glazed, please”

  1. Talk about “great minds all think ….” After enjoying a very nutrition-healthy meal (yes dining out!), we were offered free desserts! FREE! I mean, FREE! How could we resist? We didn’t! We ate and thoroughly enjoyed our decadant desserts (yes, plural – dessertS) we made our way to our vehicle, drove home, rolled out of the car, and wabbled to the front door, and that’s when we, or should I say: ME MYSELF AND I, realized that I needed to get those STEPS in and set the timer for 35+ minutes and began our indoor walk, circling in and around and down and up, for thirty-five plus minutes … So, dear #closertocrazy, I SO GET IT! However, yoga, and that pilates thing, just ain’t on my “to do” list. For me, it’s #putonefootinfrontoftheother, and keep on trucking. 😀

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply to draw7even Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s