Stranger than Yoga, is being Geena Davis' Daughter

Dear Burl-Womble,

I wonder why the universal font is Times New Roman?  Being the kind of women who can hand write letters in more fonts than Word even bothers to offer, this decision to use TNR made by Bill Gates or whoever it is at Microsoft making such huge decisions, is border line offensive.  Why not Curlz?  Sure, it hurts your eyes after one paragraph, but at least it has some personality.  Why not Lucida Sans Unicode?  The straight lines that end in pentagon like edges are soft enough for a woman's use and militant enough not to make a man feel like a pansy using it (unlike aforementioned Curlz).  I suppose some things we will only know in the after life, but if you see Bill or Melinda in the Piedmont area, please take the time to make the big ask:  Why TNR, why?

Moving forward, last night I took a yoga class (not yogalates, so tell Bray to put her hysterics on hold, there will be no saying yogalates out loud today).  Now, mind you, I have been clocking in at the gym once or twice a week.  Long gone are the days of kickboxing, weight lifting, and toe touching, but since I noticed my buttocks starting to hang low, September is my renewed attempt at dedication. 

I enter the room, 5 minutes late of course, from the nap I just woke up from (not to mention in LA, we have to park in a ridiculous structure on Level 3 and walk 5 minutes through a restaurant row, up an escalator, into the gym, where there is a long line of willing torture participants, across the top floor of the gym, through a meat market where a woman has to wear tight pants at her own risk, down another set of stairs, beyond the trainer corner and into the 12 x 12 yoga room that is so packed with people you can practically smell your neighbor).  I park it next to the door between a bald man with an adorable pot belly and a grandma who seemed to be reliably "zen".  We started the class pretty normal-you know, lights low, poor choice in music meant to relax you, down dogs, plank poses, Warrior 1, 2 and 3, teacher who half sings, half speaks in low monotone voice saying things like, "You're not here to kill yourself...take your time...listen to your body".

Side note:  Actually Miss Yoga Teacher Never Gets Pissed Off in Traffic Person, I AM here to kill myself-that's why I came to the gym-because my butt is going South at the ripe old age of 28 years and 7 months and the only way to up the ante, if you know what I'm saying, is to kill myself in this stupid hot box yoga class set in the middle of the grossest meat market in LA County.  Second, no, I am not going to take my time, I am going to push myself to the limit in as little as time as possible and if a tendon snaps, then by God, it will have snapped while whipping my butt back into shape.  Finally, I will not be listening to my body, which thanks to the time of the month and the tension I feel from trying to fit 30 hours into each 24 hour day, desires only salty things like cucumbers with tamari and sesame seeds, sea salt and black pepper potato chips, spicy sweet potato fries, sweetened carob raisens... and let's be honest, anything else in the house.  Your advice is bad.  Tonight, I shall not take it.

Anywho, we were in the middle of the Warrior Vinyasas, but I was craving a little triangle pose.  She would get so close...and then let me down by putting an elbow on the knee, arm over my head pose.  When we finished a few, she said, as she walked over to the stereo system, in her monotone, soothing, half-singing voice, "Now, my students, you are on your own."  Great, I think to myself, just great.  I came to this lady's class to repeat these dang warrior poses and teach myself-what kind of cl... wait a minute, is that DMX?

Yes, Burl, it was DMX and I went right back to freshman year, when 1) we used to see him party hard around the NCSU campus and 2) started bouncing to "Ya'll gon' make me lose my mind, up in here, up in here".  Monotone Teacher voice began to giggle softly in her headset microphone, "I hope there's not cursing."

Well, well, well, maybe she does have a temper on the 405 freeway (10,000 times worse than the Raleigh Beltline).  As we all know, DMX does nothing but curse, so after a few f-bombs, she scurried like a wild dog to the stereo system to change the song to TuPac's "California", as if that would be better or have less cursing. 

Bursting with joy because this is the kind of music gym rats all over America kick their own butts too, I got busy with my Reverse Warrior into Triangle Poses into plank into that hurt your tricep as you hover above the ground pose, into up dog into down dog, walk or softly jump your feet towards your hands, long leg stretch into hands over head stretch, then REPEATEN POR FAVOR on left side.

It doesn't end there.  She busted out some moves I have never seen in my young yoga life, but apparently needed a little Neo-Soul to do so, and cranked up Floetry's "All ya gotta do is say yes... all ya gotta do is say yes..."  I can't even type the rest of the song without blushing-what kind of yoga class is this anyways?  She went on to prep us for splits...which you know I haven't done since Senior Year Cheerleading when I had to do my version of a cartwheel (looks more like a 5 year old kid doing upside down karate kicks two different ways) into splits, so you can imagine, this exercise along with my forcing myself to excel in every posture, was quite frustrating.  Then she did this and suggested we join her:

Kathryn Michael Burleson Womble!!! (do you see how the font changed back to TNR when I inserted this picture!  Dangit Bill and Melinda!  I am going to change it back) Post her rap/neo-soul movement, I realized she had completely lost her mind and I began to laugh hysterically as I attempted to put my elbow underneath my leg that refused to engage in the sideways split pose.  It wasn't too long before my pot bellied bald friend began to do the same, soon followed by Grandma "Zen".  So now that half the front row had fallen over sideways in pain and hysteria, she singed songed, "Yessss, that's right, yoga is fun."

Yessss, Strangest Yoga Teacher on Earth, Yoga IS fun... because you are crazy.  But I'll be back next Tuesday, giggling with the others in the class who work out because we have to and not because we enjoy this kind of sick medieval buddhist torture.

These are the moments I miss you most Burl Womble.  When you visit, we'll take her class together. 

Love you forever,
Dod

PS  I have no idea why you are fretting over Charlene.  She has some of the most gorgeous stems I have ever seen on a woman (so do you).  She dressed so well and she certainly had the best (sweetest and warmest) personality (her only competition was Annie, whose sarcasm was a fan favorite).  Plus, she was beautiful to boot (so are you).  FYI, Lately, I have been compared to Geena Davis (they keep saying in our work meetings whenever she comes up, that she could be my mother... Unfortunately, this is the picture that reminds them of me...And yes, they certainly do put it up on a huge screen for all the men to enjoy).  I also do not find this photo very complementary when it is in direct relation to me.

PPS  Well, I ended up taking the 3rd part of Yoga Teacher's advice late last night.  Carob raisens, tamari almonds and sea salt and black pepper chips were my late night snack.  Dangit, she won Burl, she won.