This morning, I woke up at 3:22 AM, reached over to the windowsill to grab my phone, and turned off an alarm labelled “YOGA, LOSER.” The YOGA, LOSER alarm would have woken me up at 5:35 AM to get to 6:00 AM yoga, something I manage once or twice a week. This time, 3:22 AM Jill flipped that alarm off and then smugly rolled over and snuggled back to sleep, content in having thwarted past Jill.
See, Past Jill has such good intentions. She packs up yoga stuff (with a towel and work clothes and a lunch) so I can get up and out the door in no time at all. Unfortunately, 3:22 AM Jill has nothing in common with Past Jill, and will do anything to defeat her – even on the flimsiest of premises. “Didn’t we go to bed, like, kind of late? Won’t it be better for our health if we actually skip yoga and get the extra hour of sleep?” 3:22 AM Jill uses words like ‘nourishing’ to describe that extra hour of sleep.
I’m not sure why I so actively work against myself. I actually like yoga! It’s not like I’m punishing myself through some kind of intense Ab Hell Infinity: the Abtasm-type workout. Really, I go, I do some flows and crack out all my joints, shower, wander over to Bean Scene to get some coffee and a scone (hot with butter), then go to work. My morning workout involves butter. I should be able to get up for hot carbs with butter!
When I do get up, I get a post-yoga glow that’s really just a sense of superiority from thinking of myself as the kind of person that goes to 6:00 AM yoga classes. It’s horrific. I wander into work at 7:30 AM with wet hair. “Oh, no, I wasn’t running late. I just came from the studio.” I never say what kind of studio, because I’m fit and mysterious. I subtly push my breakfast salad into a more conspicuous spot on my desk. “I just, you know, chakra? I’m like, a morning person, so… Namaste.” I trail off, and imagine myself meditating on a mountaintop somewhere while someone takes photos for my insta.
Maybe 3:22 AM Jill is doing the world a favour by saving the world from post-yoga Asshole Jill.
But maybe not. Smug as she is, Asshole Jill feels pretty darn good about herself. The last Jill in this story – the one I’ll call Present Jill – doesn’t always feel too darn good about herself. Even with that extra hour of sleep – nourishing as it may be – I still have some concerns about the way my arm looked in that one photo three weeks ago, and how stupid my hair is on a 24/7 basis. Asshole Jill may have some issues (my poor co-workers), but in some ways I aspire to be her more often. She feels powerful in a way I don’t often… but maybe that power just comes from having defeated 3:22 AM Jill.
Anyone have any brilliant ways of getting themselves out of bed and to the gym (or the hillside, waterfront, whatever your yoga is)? Who can help Asshole Jill be a little less of an asshole? Lastly – anyone want to take photos of someone meditating on a mountainside? Asking for a friend.