Heart Full

In the spirit of tightening my belt after last year’s abysmal economic showing, I decided to reexamine my expenses, one of which was my yoga membership. I was sitting pretty at less than $100/month membership at a studio I LOVED, but looking to get an even better deal.

I had heard from a reliable source that Pure Yoga was actually Equinox undercover. Armed with that knowledge, I decided to take a second look at gym yoga, and maybe take a class? I can hear the sirens already, those two little words and my intention will have me hiding from the yogettes longer than Rushdie.
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Ipanema Beach, Rio de Janiero – June 2008

It would be tough to imagine anything more beautiful than the beach landscape of Rio. Until I saw her people. My cellulite screamed in agony. For several caipirinha induced hours I believed that this place inspired Eden. Wishful thinking. This is not the cradle for all human kind, just supermodels. And it’s easy to see why. The beaches virtually all 6+ km of it are teeming with activity, and not the sun-bathing kind, but futbol, volleyball, and jogging. Starbucks doesn’t exist here, it’s door to door juice bars, McDonalds is sasquatch rare, and no one smokes. Top it off with a healthy tan, good-looking genes, and you have your average Brazilian.

So it’s easy to see why I slithered into my first Brazilian yoga class. The fact that the only yoga class I could find within a healthy – NYer walking radius of my hotel was in a gym was no comfort. My mind had me mat to mat with Adriana Lima, or any other Victoria Secret Model (since they all seem to come from Brazil nowadays). It would never matter how stable I was in crow or tree, all of my poses would be marked by dimply, pudgy and squat.

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