Hilarious, Smelly Exercise

When I bought the Prenatal Yoga DVD at Target I had high hopes of getting limber and strong during my pregnancy and maybe getting a jump on losing the weight after hatching my egg in August. Sure, I could take classes with other preggy women. My excuses for not doing so include the expense involved and my propensity for being overly competitive and sometimes hostile in group exercise classes. A $17 disc I can follow at home seemed an ideal solution. Besides, it starred Shiva Rea, who I think is the wife of sexy yoga guy Rodney Yee.

She's tall, thin, blonde and incredibly fit. Shiva also has a soothing, ethereal voice and a demeanor so peaceful and reassuring that it becomes impossible to resent her in any way. I will probably find a way.

I no longer have a yoga mat, the expensive one was pooped on by a dog that wasn't supposed to even be in my house, much less pooping on my yoga mat. The other was put to use during a snow storm by my darling husband, who found it a perfect thing to put under the tires for added traction. Ahem.

Neither do I have a yoga brick, a yoga strap or a yoga blanket. Instead I rely on my decent balance and flexibility, left over from a lifetime of dance and Pilates and Yoga and friggin' Jazzercise. I was overweight before I got pregnant, but I am still pretty bendy.

A few things I failed to consider. During your pregnancy you will certainly notice that your sense of smell is intensified, to the point you can smell donuts from a mile away. Or, every smelly thing embedded in your carpet when you are in Downward Dog and, especially, Child's pose. Every morsel of popcorn dropped on the floor and missed by the vacuum in the last three months shifted the focus of my vinyasa breathing and nearly made me hurl.

About the balance and grace of which I boast? The funny thing about being in the Second Trimester of pregnancy is your burgeoning bump, which on me sits directly in front of my hips and solidly smooshes my internal organs. Lean the wrong way in any direction and the bump slides, crushing my liver, kidney, stomach or bladder's will to live. Also, smooth and even breathing--a hallmark of yoga practice--is more like gulping, heaving, sighing and panting.

Here's a picture: Me in my living room, attempting a Table position. Besides the terrible noises issuing from my nose and mouth, the cat trying to capture the cute ribbon tie on my yoga pants, and my beet-red face; I am wobbling on the smelly carpet on all fours, one shaky arm pointed forward and the opposite side leg held up in back. The cat is under my belly, swatting at my pants. My belly and supersized boobs are trying to make a break for the floor, I am sweating too much and the phone is ringing.

Shiva Rea is reminding me to "focus on the now...be in the present" and I'm finding reason to hate her. The cat stabs one perfectly formed fish hook of a claw in my fleshy, exposed belly and, after I peeled myself off the ceiling, I stand up without inhaling first and hurl the remote control at the TV.

Shiva Rea reminds me that the growing life inside me appreciates my attention to my body's needs for stretching and strength. I'm so glad.

No doubt the growing life inside me also appreciates the Crunch Berries I had for breakfast and my bizarre craving for Coca-Cola.

It's all good, right? I'm taking care of myself, eating (mostly) right (see aforementioned Crunch Berries and Coca Cola) and getting sunshine, lots of water and gentle exercise.

Perhaps I'll give Shiva Rea another chance. I doubt the second try could be worse.