since my last post. What can I say? Being faux-employed is incredibly time- consuming. I will say, I’ve been incredibly good about working out since I’ve moved to BK. I got an insane Living Social deal for a yoga studio near the house, and I’ve been going about 3 times a week. One major complaint I have is that the place is crazy crowded, especially during the day. Apparently, everyone in BK is faux-employed (unemployed? an “artist”?). I can say with total honesty that, about 15 minutes into yoga, I start sweating so much you’d think it was Bikram, so the last thing I want is another human being 10 inches from me. But, the studio does have a yoga teacher who informed everyone that he “doesn’t believe in anatomy”, so the place isn’t a total bust. Probably the only thing that appeals to me about becoming a yoga teacher is the opportunity to say completely inane things under the guise of profundity. When I was in college, I took my first yoga class with a man who asked us not to wear deodorant to class because he wanted to be able to smell our fear. At the time, this dude struck me as creepy enough to ensure that I didn’t take another yoga class for the next 5 years, but, in hindsight, being able to BE that ridiculous, out loud, to a room full of strangers, was probably very satisfying. I spend about 80% of my life filtering out the weird/inappropriate shit I think but could never say, when, in reality, I should just complete my yoga teacher training and let it loose. 

In addition to yoga, I’ve been running like a crazy lady all throughout Brooklyn. I have taken to listening to music on every run, partly to motivate me, but also to drown out the voices of random men hitting on me. As I’m running. In a gross skull cap. And stupid looking running clothes. While breathing as though I’m about to pass out and looking like I’m most likely going to throw up. It would maybe be flattering to be hit on if I had some confidence in the fact that I looked good in that moment. Can’t hate on someone appreciating the time I put into looking cute. But when I am all too aware that I look like butt (sweaty, smelly, matted hair butt), the comments just seem disingenuous and make me rage-ful. I’ve seriously considered stopping mid-run, walking back to one of these dudes, and asking them, specifically, what about my appearance in that moment they appreciated (and the vague feeling that there’s a vagina under these awkward looking running pants doesn’t count as a legit answer). If one of them can name something that doesn’t sound like a total crock of shit, I will probably (definitely) leave my boyfriend and marry him.