Hot Barre None in Ecco Domani

I have been making up for some lost time in the Hot Studio. I did Hot Pilates yesterday followed by Hot Yoga which I only made it 1/3 of the way through. Today, I began with Hot Yoga, and finished with Hot Barre None. My aunt down in Florida who owns a Hot Studio suggested Barre None as her favourite. She is the skinny one. Most of our family on that side are either athletic, or overweight, or both. She married in, and she is Olive Oil skinny from Popeye. I will say, her influence has been a breath of fresh air for me personally. I was in her wedding when I was young, and so she has almost always been there for me. We are so subject to our nurture. We are Southerners, and she is from Up State New York (one of the skinniest states along with Colorado). I have spent a lifetime correcting habits that were instilled in me. I always have to be doing something (i.e. typing this after two hot sessions, and it still isn’t enough), or eating. Doing, and then eating, doing, and eating. Luckily, I first began by switching to eating Healthy, but even if it’s healthy, eating all the time is still abusing your stomach, and organs. I really felt that after Barre None. I felt my stomach was swollen. (I had a rough month in my last class with getting my brain to work, and so snacking for mental stimulation was a last ditch effort). Sometimes I imagine what it was like for her, a pretty, skinny, slight type marrying into a bunch such as us. I know I experience it even on my level. My sister, and father are morbidly obese, and sessile, what it’s like for me is walking gracefully on a tight rope, and all of a sudden the Jabba The Hut family jump on my wire, and throw me off it. I’ve hit the ground pretty hard a few times from that. Or, it’s like being hunted down by the Tremors Worms. It’s like being in a serene box at home, calm, and tranquil like a sailboat of beauty, and all of a sudden the Tremors worms grab on to your boat, and sink it with abuse until you are so psychologically twisted that eating yourself to death becomes the only option you have instead of joining the Nazi Party.

I have always been into things like dance, ballet, yoga, pilates, among other things like snowboarding, baseball, poetry, and I stayed away from the lower class where those things would be considered weak, gay, weird, etc, until one day I realized that was exactly what my father was, and what my siblings were turning into: little thugs, and all of a sudden I am Michael Corleone in some meathead drama, and my sexuality is being questioned, and my strength, and virility are being questioned. I am engulfed into the psychology that abuse, and stuffing your gullet full of sausage is the only way to keep control of the streets. I much prefer the company of Germans where being delicate, and having an appreciation for the finer, cultured things in life like Russian Ballet is revered, or the Upper Class in general, yet, I’m stuck dealing with the multitude of thugs of every block who can only respect you when you muscle them into submission.

Anyway, Barre None was therapeutic where I had been hit with the Omicron Variant. Ever since then, my right hand, and handwriting have had some tremors when I write, and my right foot was trembling through pilates, and Barre None. It almost seems like early onset of Parkinson’s or Lou Gehrig’s at times, but I finally found where I need to work on to get rid of that tremor.

(FYI. I was joking about the Nazi Party bit. That’s some Hunter S. Thompson humour. The Germans I know tend be very nice, and well mannered, and their gov’t donated a hellova a lot of money to Jewish families relatively recently).

Last updated August 09, 2024