rWe are having the dress altered in all kinds of different ways by a wonderful seamstress named Pam, and since the first time I met with Pam, she's insisted that we let the dress out. I, stubbornly, have insisted that by August, my body will fit in the dress. The first discussion went a little something like this:r
Pam: Oh, we don't worry. We can let this out and open it up.
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Me: [All smiles.] Oh no, that's okay. I plan to lose this weight by next spring. I'll fit into it!
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Pam: [Face scrunched, head tilted to the side.] You'd need to lose a lot of weight.
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Me: [Sheepish face.] Yeaaaaa, I know. But I'm going to work really hard!
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Pam: Um. Okay.
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There is a little bit of a language barrier, but I'm pretty sure she means business. The second time I met with her was about four months later, in January—right after the holidays. I had not worked really hard at anything except making excuses. “It's too cold outside to run…. But you only make apple pies and Christmas cookies once a year…”
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Imagine the look on Pam's face when I'd returned, possibly up a couple of pounds. That conversation went like this:
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Me: The alterations look great… I'm so excited, but I think I'd like to make a few more changes….
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Pam: [Face scrunched, head tilted, yanking at the back of the dress.] You are bigger! You need to exercise!
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Me: Yeaaaa, it's that dang holiday weight! Gets me every year!
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Pam: Don't worry; I'll let the dress out.
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Me: NO! I promise, I will work out and I will eat better. I'll fit into the dress.
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Pam: Okay, you come back in March. [Eyes narrow.] We'll see.
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Well, March is here and I am not prepared. I started Weight Watchers about six weeks ago and have dropped six pounds, but that is not going to impress Pam. I've also signed up for a half marathon and a crazy 48-hour running relay thing later this year, but even the concept of training isn't giving me the motivation I need to lace up my kicks and hit the pavement.
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So when I saw a deal for 10 hot yoga classes, I recalled a professor once telling my class about getting in shape through hot yoga, and I immediately nudged (though she calls it coerced) Weddings Editor Kelsey to join with me.
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Yesterday was our first class. We survived, but that's about all I can report. Experiencing ninety minutes of 105 degree heat, coaching yourself to eath slowly and not pass out, simultaneously contorting your body into positions you only believe are possible because of the pretzel-shaped people around you, is no joke. I've run a half marathon and I can confidently say that they require similar levels of stamina, athleticism, and mental control. It was hard. And it was hot. They say that you leave yoga with newfound perspective and a clear mind, and while I don't know if my mind was clear, I was absolutely speechless. I called my fiancé on the way home and he said “So, how was it? Tell me about it!” I pulled the phone away from my ear and responded “Shhhh. I don’t know what to say. I can’t really talk right now. I’ll tell you about it later. Click.”
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I don't know if was the heat or what, but I was exhausted. I checked Facebook later in the evening and laughed, immediately feeling better, when I saw Kelsey’s status:
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Bikram yoga. Sweat. Not much else to say.
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Looks like we felt the same way. This morning I did notice that my arms and legs are sore in place they've not been sore before. I am excited to be working out new muscles and hopefully, eventually, toning up. When we came into work someone asked “So how was it?” In unison we responded “Hot.”
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We have nine more classes to go, and we are both determined to complete them. One step at a time. I would guess that about 50 percent of our determination is due to the fact that we paid for this thing and we're going to do it. For me, the other 40 percent is a genuine belief that hot yoga is a great workout and by sticking to it, I'll be in the shape I'm striving for.
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Truth be told: the other 10% is terrified of Pam.
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