I woke up from a great sleep, had a glass of water and promptly threw up. While I was contemplating the shape of our toilet bowl, I realised that my body felt as if it had been run over by a herd of wild camels who had kindly left the rancid taste of a thousand desert winds in my mouth. (This is a picture of the marauding band of wild camels who ran over me while I slept).
Not exactly the kind of GREAT DAY I was planning.
I don't know if it was the coffee withdrawal - I'm sure that accounted for the pounding headache - but surely one day of vegetables can NOT make you feel this bad. And, it's not like I haven't done yoga before. Okay, so I've missed a few months, but jeez, I hurt from the top of my head to the rounded tip of my Chanel Blackberry painted toes.
I couldn't even bring myself to walk the dog, so I let her walk herself, (okay, don't be silly, my husband walked her) managed to keep down some gorgeous globe grapes and then dragged myself off to another yoga class. I've told you before, if one cheese is good and three is better, then it must follow that if one yoga class kills you, three must bring you back to life!
Anyway, I promised myself and maybe a few other unnamed people that I would do yoga every day of my cleanse. And, that's exactly what I plan to do. Unless I feel like I am going to die. Now, that isn't a cop out. It's just that, call me crazy, if I'm going to projectile vomit, or faint, or make strange gassy sounds because I ate a whole farmers market for breakfast, I'd like to do that in the privacy of my own home, instead of surrounded by hot, sweaty, overenthusiastic yogies.
I prefer my humiliations to be private - I know, like I said, call me crazy.
I prefer my humiliations to be private - I know, like I said, call me crazy.
But, somehow I survived yoga, without any of those humiliations and now I'm just going to try and make it through the rest of the day.
Thank goodness for tomorrow.
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