My Earlobes Still Feel Fat

My head fills with blood, pumping in a rapid thud, thud in my ears.  My shoulders and wrists ache, my hands are slipping toward the front of my mat, and my hamstrings refuse to budge further as I attempt to 'ground my heels'.  The bead of sweat that slipped down between my breasts during an earlier pose is now creeping back up my sternum, sliding past my throat and up behind my ear into my hair.  All I can think is how much longer, how many more breaths, oh right, breathe, in through the nose, out through the mouth, breathe into the pose and try to relax because the next one will probably kill us. "Don't forget to relax your jaw."  The tall, handsome yoga teacher's big paddle feet go past the edge of my visual field.  I try to remain in the moment but I can't help cracking a grin.  He's been telling us to relax our jaws periodically throughout this class and every time I react internally like a 13 year old boy.  Same deal when he has us open our hips

--> It’s been a rough couple of weeks since I got back from London.   I went to meet my friend Tess’s baby (he’s as delicious as he looks in the photos) and to see my good friends, but I also went to confront my past there and kind of reclaim my territory – I liked to say I was going to ‘piss all over London’ with a wicked grin on my face, but as the trip approached I got progressively more terrified, until my dad had to give me some of his anti-anxiety meds to stop me hyperventilating in the office the day of my flight. As expected, being in London was really hard.   One day I walked the southern boundary of ‘our’ old stomping grounds and I could feel the blood pulsing in my brain and heart and I knew I had to change routes and go out of my way.   I likened it to touring a haunted house: ghosts of my relationship were everywhere, reminders of how happy I’d been and how long he’d lied to me, how much I’d put up with it… I walked past pubs where I’d cried on friends’ sho