There I sat on my mat. My breath connected to my body, and my mind connected to my body. The ancient bridge appeared, and my whole being crossed over into being complete. Tears flowed as the gentle healing began to envelope my body. As I stood to greet the sun, my salutation commanded several movements to complete the phrase. My body has finally found a way to acclimate itself to the outside world. Ten minutes of basic yogic postures and a complete transformation has happened.
Instead of being easily annoyed by people throughout the day, a negative reaction is delayed. While the multi tasking and varying personalities still drains me, the process is not as victimizing. By understanding that my day must be started and ended with more intention, I have overcome many obstacles before they even begin.
My afternoon was spent browsing through yoga articles. Its amazing to me that all of this has taken place within the span of the week. My next thought is to see how I can allow yoga to infiltrate other areas of my life. Time shall tell how I am able to use this ancient practice to help me live.
Lately, I have been crying hours after yoga has ended. It is a normal occurrence which intrigues me. Having experienced a wide range of side effects due to such a practice, this one intrigued me. The frequency of it alerted me to a deeper process that was perhaps taking place within me. A serious healing was taking place and gently coming to the surface. A healer described it to me as energy pathways being opened up as blockages were being removed hence the emotional cleansing. The clarity of thought and conclusions being drawn have been immense. The interesting thing is that these thoughts happened during my self practice which I have never done before.
In an effort to gently introduce my body to the day, I started doing a few yoga poses upon waking. My eyes would well with tears and different sensations in my body would happen. Understanding my own body and what was taking place was tremendous. The changes were not hidden to me. The opening of what I did not even know was closed was apparent and all of this took place without pain. Naturally, some discomfort was present but this is when you are pushed out of that zone.
My instructor would always encourage me to dig just a little deeper during class which is something that I would avoid. I thought it was enough for me to simply show up and attempt to go through with the movements. However, on my own, her words rang in my ears as I felt myself able to hold the pose a little longer. This is a far cry from the person that thought yoga was boring over a decade ago.
It is a Sunday morning, and my body is sore and open. There is a palpable diagonal line that connects me to the Earth. The soreness is not overwhelming but strong enough to make me remain in reflection mode. My renewed curiosity about crystals makes sense now. Energy is something that must constantly be studied in its various vehicles, with my own body taking priority. It is a journey of questions and discoveries. It is a journey that I intend to pursue with a new intention and an expanded mind. My world has been alerted.
I did everything right. I graduated from college and got a job. There were no babies calling me mommy and drugs were called Ibuprofen. My teeth were cleaned every six months and the PCP saw me once a year for my annual physical. Women looked at me and said #adulting goals. One very specific element eluded me without my knowledge…I had no idea how to be a woman.
Grace was not something that existed for me. My mother always told me that I was too rough in my manner or too strong. Dancing was completely out of the question for me and I tended to “flop” about. Quiet, introverted, shy, and pained by the presence of people; that was me. Fortunately, world cultures captivated my attention which led me to the discovery of Middle Eastern Dance.
At one point, I was dancing at least twice a day in addition to privates, performances, and Pilates. My eyes were firmly planted on studying in Egypt. It was my life. It completely took over. Other women that were also mesmerized became my friends. We would attend workshops and different dance festivals. We would support each other at different performances in between costume fittings and hookah time. It was not long before my first full moon drum circle invitation appeared. It was the pure essence of primordial energy.
Between the natural movements and hypnotic music, the dance form helped me express what could never be put into words. Sensuality found a definition, and I was used as an example of grace during class. It was my honor to then become an instructor which helped me share the wonderful gift of this dance that was created for women by women.
In short, it taught me how to be a woman. Your mother can only show you so much if anything about this and in retrospect, I was completely lost. Bellydancing saved me from the grips of toxic masculinity and introduced me to myself on so many levels. Perhaps the most important one being was that being feminine is an art form to be celebrated every single second of every single day.
Forty plus pounds have literally vanished from my lilt frame. My nicknames include Flaca and skinny minnie. I have shared my diet with women all over the country. My closet is still a work in progress and I throw away underwear on a daily basis because they are too big. This diet was not a choice that I made. It was a lifestyle that my body demanded. After years of eating whatever I wanted whenever I wanted without any regard for nutrition or portions, chronic symptoms made me uncomfortable on a daily basis. It took a former acupuncturist to sit me down and explain that my diet had to change without question or hesitation. It was cold turkey or face a lifetime of having a disgruntled body.
Wine, sugar, and starches vanished from my plates. At this point I feel as if a slice of cake would be a serious shock to my system because that amount of sugar is now foreign to me. Feb 17th began my exploration into a life of protein and veggies. The addition of a personal chef during the summer made life easier, but I still have a gut. My weight was not the only thing that changed.
The better part of my closet had to be replaced. My body was a size 10 while my mind still thought it was a size 14. People started giving me loads of attention. Chairs that were once comfortable became unbearable. Pine Sol can no longer be used in my home because the fumes are too much for me to handle; switched to an essential oil mix. My sound sensitivity increased to immediate annoyance. People overwhelm me with their constant talking and general noise. During conversations, I lose track of the discussion often. My eyes have loose skin and there are ripples on my sides. The boobs that made me famous now look like the site of deflated balloons. The black woman’s signature looks more like initials. My metabolism started sending me off into naps midday. Medication has now been prescribed because my body no longer produces a certain chemical that is required to fight off issues.
All of these changes contributed to a rocky year. New people became resources for new situations. A stylist helped me explore new styles. A new boutique fitted me with trendy wear. Friends have been swift to meet the demands of my strict diet while dining with me. The chef goes out of his way to provide me with meals that are delicious, varied, and based on what I need. I am hoping that 2018 will bring more stability to what has become a life filled with drastic changes.
In 2013, my mother traveled to Jamaica. She purchased a knitted swimsuit for me that was in the design of the Jamaican flag. Unfortunately, it was unable to fit. I comforted myself by saying I would give it to a smaller friend with a frame that could appreciate the suit. Fast forward to last Sunday morning. The sun rose, and I realized that I was beach bound. Since so much weight has dropped off me since February, I decided to try it on. Not only did it fit, but it looked good on me. It gave me such joy to wear it and enjoy the wind on so much of my skin.
These days bring me a lot of attention. Coworkers pull me to the side and ask me what I am doing. They want me to share the secret. Several people have begun dieting because of what they have seen with my body. Doors are simply held open for me wherever I go. It is a whole new world. Cooking has also become very important as I’ve picked up new tricks to keep myself well nourished.
When I cook my dinner, I pack my lunch before I eat. There are tupperware cases of salad laying around in case I do not have time to chop first thing in the morning. The microwave is only used at work, and water is everywhere. Water bottles travel back and forth to work and there are water jugs in my office if a refill is needed.
The types of comments that I receive these days is material for a comedy routine…..
1.) You need to retire those jeans immediately. They are hanging off you.
2.) Do you have an ass?
3.) Wine does not support your sexiness?
4.) Can you eat here?
5.) When do you cheat?
The rain has prevented me from my morning walk. It does not mean that I am going to skip exercising today. Perhaps I can walk later this afternoon before my evening adventure or maybe I shall bust a move right after my breakfast bowl of organic yogurt. My body is sore from the small amount of exercise that it has been exposed to which means that it is not good for me to stop now.
While consuming my green goddess salad at Panera last night, I explained to my mother’s sisterhood that the weight loss that has occurred due to my diet is amazing to me. A torture master was not employed to help me exercise and this has happened. It brought about the thought of combining actual exercise with my strict eating. My stomach now comes to the surface with one question, “Are you necessary? Do you really need to be here?” Maybe I can be the one on the next cover of Sports Illustrated.
I told my mother that ever since this has happened, I have been obsessed with how I look. My reflection is admired in the mirror every single morning by my eyes, and they like what they see; what say with clothes…..there is a glow on my face in pictures. This is all supported by what I consume. It is an old equation that has truly taken on a new meaning for me.
It is Saturday morning, and I have finished two laps around the park. My Keifer is currently keeping me company. My morning probiotics have been consumed. Lunch will consist of Meatloaf, Okra, and Quinoa. My beverage of choice is room temperature water with two tablespoons of Apple Cider Vinegar. After weighing myself last night, the scaled informed me that additional weight loss had occurred.
The drastic change in my diet was a requirement as of three weeks ago. I was placed on a very strict diet. Pounds have literally dropped off my frame overnight. Exercise hasn’t even been incorporated until this morning. Last night brought memories of pizza delivery. It would have been so easy for me instead of chopping veggies and checking the oven. A few motivational texts from friends reminded me to stay on course. There are another three weeks to go before my restrictions can be relaxed.
While others are dining on my birthday cake, I shall be splurging on a bowl of berries. That is the extent of the wild and crazy food that I get to consume for my upcoming renewal of my life cycle. I guess the surprising present is that with as smaller frame, my health has also improved.
There are many things that I believe in. Some of these things receive my unwavering loyalty and the strongest passion known to the human race. Facial hair is not one of them.
My gyn decided that the time had come for me to have a mammogram. Yes, she needed more information about the infamous boob. It was relatively easy to make an appointment. I had to email the prescription because I could not read it; however, this worked to my advantage because I forgot the hard copy when going to the appointment.
If you think that a medical professional has medical billers, that scenario is nothing compared to the department of a hospital. An entire fleet of offices were front and center to handle proper payment with regards to the different procedures. There was a handprint machine and a nice yellow bracelet in addition to the beeper. The waiting room in the radiology department was quite comfortable and not overcrowded. I was taken to the special room rather promptly and had a lovely conversation with my assigned tech. She was very apologetic whenever she had to place the boob in an uncomfortable position. There was a lot of pulling and placing. I never felt any pain or discomfort. It was strange to have a small glass table machine pressing against something that is normally covered; however, it was a decent experience. As I left the hospital, a smile crossed my face.
My boob inspection was complete.
When my gyn found the aliens that were occupying my uterus, she asked me if I wanted surgery. Unless it was required, I did not want it. After months of taking pain pills, it was time to consider something more direct to assist me. During the summer, a woman happened to tell me about Seanjari Preeti. It was not long before I schedule a yoni steam and began my journey with the pearls. No, they are not white. They are small sacks of herbs that are inserted and worn for a few days. Afterwards, all sorts of alien material can be anticipated. Nothing happened with the first round of pearls; however, the second round produced strange looking debris. That was inside of me?
During this time of detoxification, a tug of war seemed to be taking place with my ovaries. The left one is being held captive by the cysts & fibroids while the right one remains free. There were several left twinges, but the right also decided to get into the mix. This was new. Apparently, they were balancing out. Now that I have seen the power of the pearls, what happens next? There are at least three more rounds of pearls in my immediate future, and a yoni steam or two. It has been a rather interesting experience.