I cried at yoga.

I cried at yoga tonight. 

I held back tears for a good twenty minutes, and then, at the end, she had us do that starfish thingy, and said to lean your head back "to open up your throat chakra," and that was it. Tears streamed down my face into my sweaty hairline. 

I cried because I was too fat. Too fat to make my body do the things that I wanted it to do. 

Now, anytime a woman says she's fat, someone says, "You're not fat!" even if she is. Which is nice. But unnecessary. I mean, I know I have quite a bit of excess weight. I'm overweight. Obese, even. Thing is, I'm really, truly ok with that word. It's something I'm working on, something I want to change, but it's a fact, and it's ok. Further, the same decisions that made me ok with that word, are also part of what brought me to my current weight. I'm ok with that too. 

What was not ok was that I love doing yoga, and all it did tonight was bring me shame. If it wouldn't have been even more embarrassing, I would have packed up my mat, put my shoes on, and walked back out. 

But I wanted to do yoga tonight. I wanted the feeling of working hard and stretching my limits, literally and figuratively. I just couldn't do much. My belly and my legs had too much fat on them to allow for room to bend the way I want them to. 

So I cried. 

Then, I wiped my tears discreetly (geez, who cries at yoga?!), and walked out.

I texted a friend, who (sweet soul) called immediately, and I couldn't answer because I was in the middle of the gym daycare.

I went home, got kids into bed, and myself into a bath. 

And then, a funny thing happened. I realized that I didn't go home and eat chocolate, or brownies, or ice cream, or pie - all of which exist in my house right now. I had carefully poured the glass of wine I had planned for, and took it up to my bath. I lit some candles. I chose silence to process my emotions better. I didn't even want to do the thing I've done every other time I've felt bad about my body for the last 15 or more years. 

That is BIG. 

Even more, all through the twist-your-arm-around-your-back-and-grab-your-other-hand-under-your-thigh mess, I had been embarrassed for the way my body looked, and embarrassed for the way it did not move, but I did not berate my body. I wanted to, a little bit. I even tried. But my heart wasn't in it. I simply did not want to talk to myself that way. 

That is HUGE. 

So, it seems a little anti-climactic that I cried in yoga, then went home and took a bath, and decided three things: 

1. I'm going to make better choices when I eat, to lose that fat that inhibited me tonight.
2. I'm going back to that yoga class to keep improving.
3. I'm going to keep doing the things that make me love my body.

It might be anti-climactic, but I think it's evidence of a truly healthy mindset that has been missing in my life for a really long time.