He claimed it is ‘fun’.

Most women already know this, but I am going to restate it for those that don’t.

Men are liars.  They lie to get women to do things they want.  In this case, it was yoga.

Upon entering the ‘fun’ yoga studio, I was greeted by bendy people wearing very tight clothing.  I felt like the chubby girl that tries out for cheerleading; awkward, out of place, and not sure what to do next.

While clutching my Pilates mat to my chest, I noticed the lithe yoga people were gathering yoga supplies of blocks, mats, blankets, pillows, cords, and bolsters from a cart on the wall. This was my first real yoga class – no one told me I needed to bring along a yoga checklist!

Luckily the instructor noticed my blank stare and got me all the necessary supplies.

Then the torture began.

While she had us bent up like some sort of contortionist and seated on the floor, she told us to rest our head lightly on the floor in front of us.  I was bending as far as womanly possible and my head was a good two feet from even coming close to the floor.  It was so absurd that I started to giggle.  I had a sense that laughing in the calm, unhurried space of yoga class would be unacceptable so I desperately tried to hold it in.  Unfortunately, the laughter came out in pressured bursts with large amounts of spit.

My uncontrollable giggling was not appreciated.  I quickly sobered up by thinking about sad things like never being able to have chocolate ever again.

She had us try to do things that are completely impossible while saying all manner of words that had more vowels than consonants and at least 12 syllables.  Due to my lack of fluency in the yoga language, I just watched to see what the rest of the class did and desperately tried to mimick their movements.

At the end of class we did some final stretches to ‘completely loosen up’ all our tight muscles.  She led us through a stretch that involved putting your left foot on your right knee, bending into a squat, leaning forward, and then merely doing a handstand to deepen the stretch.  Simple.  Right?

I couldn’t get past step two in the task.  There was no way a pretzel handstand was up next.  There are only so many times a woman should risk her life doing stupid things and this was not one of those times for me!

Yoga is for masochists. It’s an hour and a half of doing torturous things that are impossible for the average woman.

Apparently I fall into this group because I am toying with the idea of going back.

Perhaps it was the sense of satisfaction of not being dead at the end that hooked me.  Who knows?  All I know is that I better keep the giggles under control if I go back!

There are things I do which I find quirky, but may be more normal than I think.

• I put important things that I don’t want stolen in my underwear drawer.  For instance, I just tucked my passport away next to my bras because somehow this makes perfect sense to me. Perhaps I am giving thieves more credit than they deserve.  In my heart I think they will be respectful enough to not rummage through my unmentionables while robbing me blind; thus protecting the most important things in my house.Maybe I should just get a safety deposit box…
• I think the organization of a woman’s spice cupboard and how clean behind her fridge is tells you exactly what kind of woman she is. My spice cupboard is jammed full of things that aren’t even spices.  Heck, I have a smoke detector in there!

How can you find anything in there?

But I have this spice rack…so does it mean I can pull it together when absolutely necessary?

Perhaps my spice redemption?!

My fridge appears to be just fine from a quick glance.

What a happy little fridge; complete with pictures from the nieces on it.

But upon closer inspection, I’ve really let myself go!

Oh. My. Gosh. I can't believe no one told me how far gone I was!

This is why I will pull the fridge and stove to clean behind before people come over instead of dusting.  Then when they use this litmus test to see if I am a good woman I will pass with flying colors and the dusty pictures and lamps will go without notice.  Right?

• I put peanut butter on almost anything.  Bananas, any sort of bread product, apples, ice cream, Nutella, a spoon, a hunk of chocolate, vegetables, you name it! Some days I find myself standing in front of the open refrigerator with a jar of peanut butter in one hand searching for something worthy to pair it with. If nothing can be found I resort to eating it off a spoon.

• One of my life goals is to be able to masterfully bake a soufflé.  I don’t know why but it seems to be one of those things that separates the girls from the women.  And you never know when a soufflé emergency should arise…if called upon in such an emergency, I would want to be able to save the day.

Am I the only one?  Please tell me it isn’t so!

• Don’t work out to lose weight, eat to lose weight.
• Work out to shape your body into what you want it to be.
• If it’s a fruit, vegetable, or you can kill it; eat it.

I immediately implemented the Primal Eating plan. I went home, baked some brownies, and KILLED them.

Then I felt bad. For the next 3 days leading up to my first training session I followed the eating plan without fault. An hour before I left to get my muffin top’s butt kicked, I consumed a heaping plate of spring mix, bell peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, and half an avocado. I was stuffed and proud of myself.

I went to the gym early to warm up so that I wouldn’t pull anything during the training session. The gym was freezing, so I kept my sweat pants and warm up jacket on during my brisk jog. At the one-mile point on the run I was on the verge of heat stroke. In order to cool down, I attempted to strip off the outer layer of clothing while running.

Word of advice: Press pause on the treadmill before taking off any warm up clothing. It results in less near death experiences.

We started the training session, which turned out to be a circuit of weight lifting with running mixed in. I anxiously completed the first exercise and started to feel rather nauseated. I really, really wanted to do well.

Then came the step-ups.

I was pouring sweat and we were only 3 minutes into the work out. Upon completion of the step-ups I started to see black dots and had to sit down. Then lay down.

My trainer looked quite concerned. I looked quite pale, deathly pale.

I drank some water and tried to get a grip.

Muffin Top Slayer: Are you ok? Do you need some Gatorade? You look really pale.
DL: I’m good. I just need a minute. GOSH.  Apparently I am totally out of shape.
MTS: It’s always eye opening for people, but I am surprised seeing how you workout every day. What did you eat today?
DL: I did really well. I even had a huge salad an hour ago.
MTS: Ahh…that’s the problem. You should eat a piece of fruit before a work out. Here eat my apple.

I sheepishly ate the Gala while sitting on an exercise bike and chatted about random things.  The black spots slowly disappeared and five minutes later I felt like a new woman. I completed the rest of the work out like a woman on a mission and felt fabulous at the end.

Another valuable lesson learned from the school of hard knocks. Eat an apple a day to keep the ambulance away!

Can you only imagine the chaos that would have ensued if I had fainted? Am I the only one that these things happen to?

1.  Getting extensive help from a tradesman on home renovations. 
If a man goes into a place like Home Depot to ask questions about how to install a toilet, he will most likely receive a ‘harrumph!’ and only be pointed towards the plumbing aisle. 

If a woman goes in alone to ask such questions, either dressed to kill in a power suit or covered in paint while wearing oversized coveralls, all her questions are answered in detail.  And then the toilet is carried out to her car for her without her requesting the service.

2.  Lifting only light things while helping friends move. 
To achieve this, a woman merely has to say, “I’m just a girl.  I can’t lift that heavy couch!  I’ll take the pillows though.”  Men immediately feel remorseful for nearly putting a woman in harm’s way; which results in the women only have to move the fake plants, picture frames, and bedding out of the house.  It’s win-win.  Right?

3.  Going to the washroom with a group of friends. 
It is 100% acceptable for a whole group of women to go to the washroom together, even if there is only one stall.  They get to chat in line, ensure everyone still looks ok, and gossip about the men in the group without them ever knowing about it.  Society forces men to go alone and not have someone there to tell him about the toilet paper stuck to his shoe.

If I man said, “Hey Joe, Fred, and James – want to go to the washroom with me?”, he would  no longer be friends with Joe, Fred, and James.

4.  Playing dumb to get a man to do something for you. 
All women have this ability and men continually fall for it.  When a woman’s tire goes flat on the side of the road, she could heft out the tire iron and get to work, but why?  A more than happy to help man will stop do it for you if you simply act confused.

This doesn’t work for men.  Can you imagine what the response would be if a man threw his arms up in abandon and giggled while fumbling with a tire iron?  I am sure the response would be something like, “What the *$&#! is your problem man?  Get a grip.”  Then the helpful man would drive off in a rush only to leave the confused man with a flat tire on the side of the road.

5.   Chocolate, glass of wine, and shopping with good friends fix most anything. 
Women can have most of their life problems fixed by eating some good chocolate, sipping a great glass or wine, or going shoe shopping with their best girlfriends.  Not a darn thing was done to fix anything, but some how the problem is way less of an issue. 

Men’s problems are never solved by a heartfelt talk while purchasing a gorgeous stiletto heel.

So maybe women have to shave their legs, can’t have grey hair, have to stay fit, and may need Botox to get rid of their crow’s feet; but they have a lot going for them that men don’t.  Just don’t tell the men!

Just moments prior I was bemoaning the fact that I had eaten a handful of M&M’s. I was so excited that I went to reception and grabbed another handful of the delicious and miraculous anti-wrinkle candies to munch on while I read the article.

As I began to read, my heart sank and I stopped shoving the M&M’s in my mouth like a mad woman in an attempt to reverse my crow’s feet, *ahem*, laugh lines.

Apparently the chocolate has to be flavanol rich to give you even a smidgen of defence against wrinkles caused by the sun and ‘conventional chocolate has no such effect’.

So basically you need to eat the cocoa bean straight from the tree.

And you know what? Those darned M&M’s do melt in your hand…