The Hottest Thing I Saw This Week

On Wednesdays, I like to go to a yoga class at 7:30pm. I won’t be able to go this week because I committed to go to a poetry reading with a friend, followed by a dinner at 9:45pm (more on that soon). Last week, however, I did go to class and I bore witness to a Moment of Hotness so Unapologetically Hot that it must be memorialized by this newsletter.* Below you’ll find a description of the Act of Hotness along with an attempt at analysis.

The Act

I arrived at the gym at 7:20pm, went straight to the locker-rooms, de-layered myself to reveal leggings and a sports bra, and walked across the foyer to the yoga studio, where many of my fellow EQX-yoga-girlies were setting themselves up on their mats. I picked a mat in the first row, on the far end of the room.

Before long, a tall woman dressed in a matching hot pink legging-and-bra yoga kit claimed the empty mat next to mine. She set up her blocks at the top of the mat, along with a towel, her phone, and a can. The class began. We reached up to the skies in unison, stretching our spines long contracted from a day at our desks, bent down, folding over our legs, breathed, extended our backs with a “half-rise”, folded over again, and then hopped back to a plank position. From plank, the teacher cued us to go to down dog, then three-legged dog. Next to me, my hot-pink-mat neighbour raises her left leg, and then, following only the cues of her mind, extends her arm out in front of her to casually, effortlessly, snap open that can, which I could now see carried raspberry flavoured sparkling water.

The Analysis

Let me first share the feelings I experienced as this all happened. First, I was confused. Then, I was mesmerized. I was also, frankly, a little judgmental—sparkling water? Really? During Hot Yoga? Will that really hydrate you? I looked to the front of my own mat at my (hot pink) water bottle carrying boring old still water. Sparkling water seemed wrong, though I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like opening a can of Coke, which carries with it all kinds of warnings about sugars and acids, but it seemed so… indulgent.

Naturally, my first reaction was to crack open my laptop and do some deep, thoughtful research on the world wide web as soon as I got home. After clicking on and skimming (read: deeply internalizing) the top three articles Google spat out at me, I can comfortably conclude that doctor’s primary concern about re-hydrating with sparkling water is that you might not drink enough water because you feel full due to the carbonation. But it doesn’t appear to have detrimental effects on your teeth or bones, nor does it have any other big warning signs that would place it in opposition to the spirit of exercise and yoga. Back in the throes of my mighty long down-dog, I imagined refreshing, raspberry-flavoured bubbles tickling the back of my throat. It had never occurred to me that I could consume sparkling water at the gym.

What made this moment uniquely Hot was that it communicated that my Yoga Neighbour eschewed convention and came to yoga class solely to pursue her own pleasure. She was indulging, and she was entirely in her right to. Whatever led her to the specific choice of a can of raspberry-flavoured sparkling water (opened during a three-legged-down-dog) over a re-usable bottle filled at the water fountain, she conveyed confidence and pure satisfaction in her choice. When was the last time that I experienced, much less openly conveyed, pure satisfaction somewhere slightly unexpected? I savour my meals and I enjoy my morning coffee (or force myself to experience a “night in” as Hot), but when do I lavishly indulge? I can only think of how giddy I feel when I have clean bed sheets (“wholesome”). Beyond that, I’m not sure.

I often move mechanically through life, ticking off boxes, making sure I’m meeting everyone’s expectations. The sparkling water is nothing more than a luscious little treat during a moment that’s already meant to be just for you. What are my treats? Cookies? Trader Joe’s peanut butter cups? Is that enough? Can I allow myself to luxuriate in something—purely, simply—in the middle of a hot, sweaty gym class?

Next week, I’ll crack open a can of peach-pear LaCroix during yoga, although I’m not sure if I’ll be wearing a matching light orange kit.

*One might argue that I created this newsletter for this moment and this moment alone. 

Received this from a friend? Subscribe here.