Swell

Today I took a yoga class at the fancy lady gym with an instructor who used to teach at my regular studio. I really like her. She has hips. And babies. And a hot, gaseous husband. The class was only an hour, which isn't enough for me normally, but I had some stuff due this morning and something else to do this afternoon and it was the only time I could go.

Tomorrow I'm taking a 90-minute power class and when I asked the instructor if she thought I could keep up, she told me the place I normally practice is the hardest place she's ever practiced-and she's practiced a lot of places, including India. "Trust me," she said, "you can keep up with any yoga class."

I am awesome, I am awesome, I am awesome.