Getting my vampire on

Last night I attended my first ever aerial/anti-gravity yoga class.

It was awesome.

And also scary (so much so that I wanted to pee on several occasions and I looked at the instructor and laughed a little in disbelief when he was explaining/showing us what we were about to do a.k.a “We’re going to what?!?!”).

But by the end of the hour I had my vampire groove on:
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(Have a look at this link on youtube if you want to see how it’s done.)

I spent a lot of the hour upside-down in this inversion:

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And every so often we would open our legs out and do this:

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Obviously I didn’t look nearly as graceful as this and most of the time I was slightly freaking out about the fact that the only thing holding me up was a piece of material, but I still impressed myself. I think my rope experiences were a huge help. Most of the first-time attendees struggled with the inversions but I was flipping with the more experienced folk and although the silk pinches into your body and is ouchie, it’s not nearly as ouchie as a futomono.

The silk is more like a hammock and apparently it has a load rating of about 2000kg but the thought that I could fall out of it pretty easily and land on my head flashed through my head numerous times.

The day after I had pretty sore abs. It’s an exceptional core workout and I think it will help with my flexibility if I go regularly.

In some ways the experience was akin to experiencing shibari, but because I couldn’t ‘let go’ it wasn’t as relaxing. I’m thinking if I do a few more classes and get more comfortable with it, I might be able to enjoy ‘flying’. Could this be a way I could get flying on tap??

Ropegasm

Do you know what happens when you bring your own highly-talented rigger to a rope party and they go wild?

Ropegasm…

That’s what happens.

Oh my…

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There were side suspensions…
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There were one-legged, futomomo suspensions (which incidentally hurt like a mother-fucker, but in a really, really good semenawa way):

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Then there was prepping for a face-up suspension:
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Which turned into an inversion:
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And then I was swung across the area like a ball on a string…
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And this time nobody had to see my hoohah (for which there were shouts of joy) and most of the time my face looked like this:
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I even managed to suspend myself at one point during the night (with some careful supervision by my lovely rigger, of course)
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And I was completely neurotic about letting the ankle rope go so I was just held by the front harness but I did and all was good:
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It was awesome on so many levels and I’m still buzzy and smiley today.

I was even complimented on my ability to withstand the futomomo, which, considering your entire body weight is being supported by your leg, is very ouchie and a lot of people can’t cope with, but I still experience more pain on a typical leg day at the gym so it was no biggie. As an aspiring rope bunny though, those sort of compliments just make me squee!

The evening certainly scratched my need-want for rope and I have an even greater respect for my rigger who used the rope with such finesse and fluidity that it was just another extension of her body.rope17

Need-want

You know that feeling when you want something and you don’t know what?

When everything you normally do just isn’t quite enough?

Yep, that one.

I haz me some of that.

I woke up at the ass-crack of dawn this morning and as I drank my morning cappuccino and trawled through buzzfeed, fetlife and facebook, I couldn’t stop thinking about rope. That’s probably because I’m going to a rope party tonight and am going to get me a rope fix. (Yay!) but anyway, I’ve had an itch since about Wednesday for something, a new experience, a challenge, something meaty I can sink my teeth into and I don’t know what. I thought it might be rope or a beating that I was pining for, but I still can’t put my finger on what I need-want.

That’s the problem with being an experience junkie – I constantly need a new fix. I get bored easily, have a short attention span and getting into a rut makes me feel claustrophobic and angry.

Now that I’ve settled into my new digs, M and I have gotten back to that point exactly where we were when I up and left, work is sucky, gym is repetitive and everything is just chugging along, I need to force myself out of the rut, because, you know, life is short and you need to enjoy it.

The ironic thing is the introverted, anxiety-ridden, socially-awkward, painfully-indecisive part of me gets into a life-and-death struggle with the part that wants to get out and do stuff. Plucking up the courage to call the person who offered to pop my rock-climbing cherry or walking in the door for that aerial yoga class alone is just often too hard and so I hide at home and stew that I’m not getting my itches scratched.

Putting a name to what I am, an introvert, has been very satisfying. I used to think I was a bit spethial or a bit weird. I didn’t understand why being around people, being sociable, forming friendships and relationships was so hard for me.

The mantra of the introvert: I want to be alone but not lonely is so very,very true. I crave connections with people but often can’t maintain them and I can understand why people find it draining to try and keep a friendship with me when all I do is act like a big black hole. I’ll wheedle out of social invitations, not return your emails or phone calls, not invite you anywhere, not randomly text you to ask how you are…because…well…it all feels demanding and too much. But I’ll love it when you text me, email me, invite me to go somewhere.

It makes me feel less lonely, but I still want to be alone.

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A few thoughts

Relationships make me fat and lazy.

They also amp up my procrastination levels to max.

But maybe those are good things?!? Maybe it means I’m feeling more relaxed.

It’s kind of like what the Japanese chick always says at work: “I’m married now so I don’t have to worry about what I look like!” (*maniacal Japanese girl giggling*)

I guess it’s very tempting to stop going to gym and to start stuffing my face when I know that someone loves me regardless of what I look like and what I do.

That’s definitely a good thing.

But I had a big blow out, binging for a few weeks on everything and anything I could stuff into my mouth and as a result, I can no longer fit into any clothes I was comfortably wearing two months ago. That is depressing enough to make me want to eat more and then the cycle would be born, but I pulled myself, kicking and screaming, back onto the 4:3 fasting wagon (which, really seems to be the only thing that keeps me in check) two weeks ago and I’ve committed to at least 4 nights of gym a week.

I’m coming to understand that I have a weird relationship with food. I’m obsessed with it to the point that I’m planning what to eat for hours and hours a day.  Food is my reward, my comfort and my control tool. I’d really like to be one of those people who is indifferent to food, who think about it mainly as fuel but can still appreciate a good meal when they have one.

I had someone comment on my collar, calling it a ‘fat girl’s collar’. Initially I wasn’t sure how to process that at all. He later went on to say that I wasn’t a fat girl and it didn’t suit me, meaning that it was too big and chunky for my neck. He is a person who doesn’t have a filter between his head and mouth and I understand that, but I still find his ‘frank’ comments disturbing at times.

The hypnotherapy experiment a few weeks back was a failure. I tried to relax and be lead down the path and into the garden of my subconscious, but it didn’t really work for me. There were points where he was checking to see whether I was ‘under’ or not and I was so tempted to open my eyes and pipe up with a, ‘Should I let you know this isn’t working or just go along with it anyway?’ There was that slavey part of me that didn’t want to disappoint anyone. He tried to give me a hand gesture to use when I was feeling stressed, but I find stuffing a piece of cream cake into my mouth to be much more effective.

I lost a dear friend to melanoma about ten days ago. Master and I went to her funeral and it was just so sad. I’m never good in emotionally-heavy situations – weddings, funerals, graduations etc., to begin with, but she was a person I’ve known for about ten years and we had a connection so that made it ten times worse.

She and I chatted and crossed each other’s paths. We’d both been through relationship woes together and she always read my blog. She had topped me on several occasions and regardless of how laughter-filled a play session is, it gives you a different connection with that person to just a ‘friend’. I feel like ‘friend’ isn’t enough to describe my connection with her but lacking any other word, that’s all I can say.

My first thought when I learned she’d passed was that she never got to read the end of my story and how sorry I was that I couldn’t write it quickly enough. I knew she was living on borrowed time, but I wasn’t expecting it so soon. She was an avid reader and was always trying to get me to tell her how it would end. I did give her a few hints but didn’t want to spoil it. In hindsight, maybe I was being selfish.

Anyway, I’ve started uploading it now to force myself into finishing it off. It will keep me occupied for the next fifteen weeks if nothing else (maybe a stress ulcer as well…lol.)

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