Yoga Whore

As the year drew to a close, I got an email from my agent telling me that she was having a three week holiday after christmas. I had just finished the christmas job at The Globe with a wonderful and radiant group of people from The Performance Laboratory - our theatre company - and I was feeling optimistic, as well as just having been paid for acting. So I wasn't too concerned that my agent was going away as I usually seem to manage to find money for myself one way or another. Sadly this year it was not to be. The weeks marched in and the pennies got pinched tighter and tighter until I find myself making sure I don't go out at all, and cooking frugally, and cancelling all money-draining luxuries in order to keep going. One of the luxuries that had to go was the gym. Which is a shame, as the best time to have a gym membership is when the chips are down. You have somewhere to go and make yourself feel better.

Then last Friday I decided to go to the theatre to see Rosie Armstrong - the daughter of a friend of mine - in I am a Superhero. This was at the Theatre 503 and a good theatre director friend of mine who works there offered me a free ticket if I helped out with front of house. This was too good to turn down. Depressed and broke though, I was in need of a haircut and not really taking a great deal of pride in my appearance. So I arrived at the theatre and went into the auditorium to gather up empty glasses. The actors were warming up on stage and I overheard one of them say to Rosie as I was walking out - "Is that your friend? He's minging."

I probably misheard her. But nonetheless I had a good long hard look at myself and realised that, yes - it cannot be denied. I ming. I minged my way through the play, standing at the back of the auditorium and hoping that the minging wasn't putting Rosie off. Then I minged off as quickly as I could after the show in order to quietly ming alone in the comfort of my flat. But the rational side of me thought that maybe I was only having one of my not infrequent bouts of paranoia. So how to beat paranoia, which is the luxury of the man who doesn't have more important things to think about? You only start looking inward when you forget to look out. So step one, despite having no work, is to get back out into the world.

A routine. That's a start. Out of work, so I need to pretend I'm in work. Up by 7. Work 9 - 5. 1 hours lunch - (which is now). Exercise every evening. Thing is because I think I ming I don't want to go running because I see people who ming running all the time and I don't want to join the ming club. Yoga!!

Right. So I want to do yoga, but I haven't any money. This is not a problem. I do a bit of internet searching and come upon the site for Bikram Yoga Fulham. They do 10 consecutive days for 10 quid. Bargain! So after a weekend of ming I get myself down to the centre in Heathman's Road and boldly lay out a mat right in front of the fucking great big mirror, so I can see myself clearly as I do the stretchy thing. And yes that annoying little voice in my head screams at me how much I ming throughout the class. But by the end of it it is less bothersome. Perhaps because I made the mistake of sitting a long way from the door so all of my energy is going into attempting to survive the sweltering furnace-like heat and the bizarre and unfamiliar bodily contortions. And since I never look in the mirror at home it is useful to notice that yep - I need a haircut.

The class ends and I float into the changing room surprised at how light my minging body feels. I get into the shower and slam it on as cold as I can bear. And an amazing thing begins to happen. I begin to shed my skin, like a snake. I rub and scrub under the blissful cold water and my old tacky and polluted ming-skin rolls off. Underneath is shiny new skin. Skin that doesn't ming quite so much. And when I get home I want to walk around in bare feet and have my top off. The possibility that I might not ming runs through my mind.

Day 2, and I spend the day looking forward to going back for another hour and a half of hell. How perverse. I get to the studio and sit closer to the door. And this time it is somehow easier. I find myself already able to not fall over in some of the poses where the day before it seemed impossible for me to do anything but. Perhaps my new less-minging skin is helping my balance? My blood pulses round my body, and I get home and go to bed early. EARLY?? I have been an insomniac for over a month - committedly so. And I still have all of the things in my life that need fixing but now it seems like they can be fixed rather than that they are insurmountable and weigh me down. Day 3 hasn't happened yet but I'm feeling a little more stiff so thinking I want to go in order to get the weight off again.

The problem is, what do I do after the ten days are up? After ten days I will have advanced from total minger to "in some lights he only mings a bit". In order to fly to the dizzying heights of "for a moment I thought he didn't ming" I will need more than 10 days...

More internet later, and the wonders of Jivamukti yoga are laid out before me. Another 10 days for 10 quid. Then there's another practise that does the same deal with Bikram but is run by different people. And surely there are more? How long can I keep doing yoga for a quid a day? I'll be a god. Eventually the free courses will run out, unless I move to New York and then to LA. But by then the ming will have fallen away, and that'll mean that someone will have given me a job. And by then I ought to know which style of yoga likes I like best so I can start paying the pretty damn pricy fees or practising at home - although you can't do bikram at home.

So thank-you to the girl who said I ming, even if you didn't. I enjoyed "I am a superhero" - all the performances were spot on and it was controlled and well directed. Although maybe the writing wasn't up my street... My lunch hour's over so I am going to get back to work.