Saturday, February 25, 2012


That's my new favorite pose.  Because I feel like a warrior when I'm busy making my body all bendy at yoga--my fitness trend du jour.

I used to yoga-- I used to be ten shades of bendy, and my body parts never got in the way of whatever pose I wanted to do. But that was in high school, before my body parts decided on their grownup, albeit round, shape.  Of course, I would've called myself athletic then.

It was a shock to finally see myself in the mirror when I signed up for a yoga class at the Y.  Thankfully, they kept the lights pretty dim, so I couldn't really see my body parts sticking out.  (And also because that was the only way I would have ever considered the necessary yoga evil-- spandex.) But I knew.  I felt flabby, not sleek, like I used to feel.

But there was something else--something that reminded me why I ever loved  yoga.  There was power.  There was a connectedness to this body, flabby and round though it may be.  There was a chance to put a stressful world behind me for a bit, and to just breathe.   And there was the after effect, which wasn't exactly like the ephemeral bliss that it looks like on TV, but was a genuine sense that I had given my body what it needed, if only for an hour.   It was different than the running, which by its nature forces you to push harder than you can go.  But that's too much like real life.  Yoga, though, is about listening, and being gentle, and believing that your body--the one you already have, not the one you so restlessly wish for-- is where you do your living.

And that's warrior worthy.  Not warrior like ready to conquer the world warrior, but like warrior who can calmly manage the chaos around her.  I'll take it.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Battle of the Bulge

I love how this goes for me-- I'm a weightloss rockstar for a little bit and then life gets in the way, and I'm back to eating donuts for breakfast, not because I craved donuts, but because they were leftover from a church thing and they're in my house.  It's been a crazy few weeks, with no end in sight.  I don't think I've either been to the grocery store or cooked in at least three weeks.  I've managed to jalk exactly once since my last post (and it wasn't pretty!) And it's highly questionable whether any of my suits will fit by time an expected funeral happens later this week.  My stomach is starting to rebel as it always does when I get this way--and I know it's my own fault, but can't seem to figure out anything better, because as I look at the calendar, I realize I probably won't be home a single night this week. On the upside, as least my scale seems to have spazzed out, and is telling me that I've lost somewhere between 10 and 15lbs.  We'll go with that, and not ponder the fact that it is lying...big time.

Funerals around here always involve lots of food-- thanks to the parade of casserole bearing well-wishers.  And despite my "please don't feed the pastor" campaign, I know that I will probably be expected to eat fried chicken and other southern health nightmares.

I need to exercise, not even because I'm trying to be the pudgeless parson, but because it helps me focus and get my brain wrapped around all that must happen in the next few intense days and weeks.  I may have to cave and zumba in my living room--even while my husband is here.  (Ummm yeah--I try to do that on my lunch break when he is out of the house.  Nobody, not even the love of my life,  needs to see that!) But the Pudgy Parson is about more than just losing weight.  It's about my committment to living well and healthfully.  It's about me learning to take care of my body and soul, so that I have something with which to  care for my flock.  So maybe it's time to get creative.  Maybe it's a time to practice grace with myself, put the looming 5k on the back burner for a week or two, and make space for exercise wherever I can.  Maybe this is time for yoga and resistance bands--the things I can sneak in for a few minutes before the demanding aspects of ministry demand my day away.