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Just as an aside here for a moment. I wear Merrels - great tennis shoes ("athletic shoes" sorry - when I was young - about a 100 years ago they were tennys, so shoot me). Merrels are great looking, comfortable shoes. And, since they are British, function particularly well in rain and much. On ice, not so much.
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Anywho... I am walking Trevor, slip and stumble - stopping my fall with a hand so as to not end up ass over tea-kettle. None the less, some nice 30ish man walks up and says, "Sir? Sir, are you okay?"
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I explained I was fine and as I am extracting the dog leash and getting up - all the while, again with the sir. "Sir, please let me help you up."
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Like I was Betty White's boyfriend!
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Arggg. Anyway, I get home and decide to head back to Bikram Yoga. The teacher yesterday said you should go right back to acclimatize to the temperature and all. Okay. So I do. Now this is a different teacher at 9:30. And I went without having breakfast (although I did have plenty of electrolytes and water). I only made it 60 of the 90 minutes. I was dying and at some point took off my shirt, as I was instructed to do.
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Even though I weighed less this morning than I have in 6 years (except for the pre-colonoscapy morning) I am extremely self-conscious about my looks - REALLY self-conscious. And, she probably was trying to give me good advice, so she kept saying "Scott, pull your feet together. Stretch tall. Scottt, lift your chin." But all I heard was the stomach notes - and in Yoga they call it your belly. All I heard was "Scott, pull in your belly."
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And thus ends our experiment in Bikram Yoga.