I couldn't resist this blog - - it was bound to happen. I've been an on-again off-again vegetarian for the past year now, and I have to tell you that being one is far more satisfying than eating meat - - it is for me. I found that when I ate meat for the duration of the HCG diet I put myself on I was slower, didn't have as much energy and felt my waistline filling back out again - - when the whole purpose of the diet was to LOSE that section of my body! Hence the embracing of the yam. I will admit I do love the vegetables I consume and I often think of myself as being like the Nigerian legend "Adamo" who refused to stop eating everything in site. He was banned from some villages for it, and the people hid their yams from him - some say they were actually worshipping the yam. I won't go that far.
This morning when I woke up I found my four dogs laying every which way across the bed and realized that the reason my back and joints feel so tight and restricted has to be that I'm catering to the dogs at night. I'm literally rolling myself up (while I'm unconscious and sleeping) into a ball and believe it or not the dogs still think I'm taking up too much room - - the truth is that KING is gaining too much mass. He's about 32 pounds now, and if I can't convince him and Rupert to sleep with Caity like they're suppose to I may end up inventing a bigger bed - I know it would sell.
I wake up, stretch, do the movements that indicate that I MAY actually want to adjust myself,(God forbid) and this would mean disturbing the dogs. Ordinarily we don't make that mistake in our house; once the dogs are comfortable, we suffer. However, after a good night's rest, and/or a few hours time, it is OK to nudge and push a little on the K9 units in order to relieve my own body of any possible permanent damage - - but what about their needs? Oh please,don't even get me started. We do DOGA in my house rather than yoga simply because they (the dogs) refuse to leave my mat once I pull it out. In the morning, when we're doing bed-yoga-doga it's the same, only this time I simply must insist on King's big head getting out of my face while I do sit ups and curl-crunches. He thinks it's funny to add his weight to my belly to see if I'm awake or strong enough to make him go up and down - - what am I, a carnival ride? I don't think so. Maybe Rupert, that's a constant 14 pounds, but I'm not entertaining the St. Bernard/Dane with this possibility - - he's 32 pounds now, but that's going to change soon. The women in the picture are actually taking their small dogs to the gym and using them as weights while they do their yoga - - this has become a tried and true method at my house as well, but only one of my dogs fits the weight criteria...Rupert.
When I do eventually get the dogs off of me and am able to pull out the mat and do a few actual asana poses I am again faced with faces...four of them staring at me. We do the pee-thing outside - well, I don't, I do that inside, but when we return it's all four faces staring up at me, or eye-ball to eye-ball if one is laying on the bed and I'm sitting on the mat. I bend over, kiss the dog in front of me, and pose. The hands that are suppose to be in front of me relaxing are now usually scratching ears, legs, bellies, and there's this tail thumping me in the back - - it's Faith, she's not into the under-the-bed thing anymore, and wants to get to work quickly. She's come out from the cave and is now behind me thumping me with her tail reminding me that the sun is up and the work day begins...now.
But what about that 10-foot giant YAM outside my house? I laugh at the image in my brain because of the bones that I have been giving to my dogs. See, dogs aren't suppose to eat chicken and/or turkey bones right, but they can eat beef and pork ribs. However, a bird can, and I've seen it, take it's K9 revenge out on the roadkill I've seen - - coyotes, wolves, I'll add raccoons in there for measure. What if, and I'm just saying, what if...a yam, the size of Rhode Island, was to come up to my house and smile at me? I'd pretty much know I was a goner - - the very fact that this thought hit me this morning meant ONE THING...I wasn't awake enough to lift the Dachshund up and put him on the belly, and I was probably suffering from St. Bernard respiratory weight failure...believe me, it is NOT easy to crunch up the middle of my body with a slobbering puppy waiting for the next wave!
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