Not A Bikram Body

Everyone has physical limitations.  Everyone.  Even Venus Williams.  However, today is all about my non-Bikram friendly body.  Which really means it’s all about boobs.

See, mine are pretty big.  And no, if any of you are rude enough to think so, it’s not a weight issue.  As my boob doctor so kindly told me “That’s all breast tissue, sweetie.  The weight you’ve lost or may lose later isn’t coming off there.”  I know that many of my female friends are saying things like, “Wait, how do I get on that train?  What the hell are you complaining about?  I want big boobs!”  Sure you do.  I like my boobs, too.  They just get in the way sometimes.

Start with the fact, as mentioned above, that I have to have a boob doctor.  Then, note that I have to buy my dainties from speciality vendors, and they cost A LOT.  Note the extra work I have to do on my pecs to support the weight so I don’t get backaches.  Note the trouble I have finding blouses, as designers seem to think you are allowed to have both broad shoulders AND big boobs – even though, practically, the broad shoulders belong with the big boobs in terms of supporting the weight (yes, I said it again).  Note that I really can’t go braless comfortably, even at home.  Note the nasty comments I get all too often from strangers – in public.  Now ignore all of that.

The real problem is that some of the Bikram poses are just not designed for big boobs.  And in order to get half as far as someone else (e.g., a guy or a small-breasted gal), I have to work that much harder to (to name just a few) a) lift my chest off the towel (Cobra/Bhujangasana); b) get my forehead to my shins (Hands to Feet/Padahastasana); and c) find cute outfits.  (Okay, the last one is vanity, but still, it’s true.)  And by the way, while everyone else is looking at their bellybuttons, I’m being smothered in my own cleavage.  Not as fun as it may sound.

Teachers don’t tend to be very sympathetic to these problems.  Mainly, they claim it’s because I’m not flexible enough; I’m not working hard enough; or, if they have a sense of humor and are actually listening, that my boobs are just too big.  But seriously, folks – especially Bikram teachers – I am not as flexible as I could (will) be.  Yes, anyone can always work harder.  But no, my boobs are not too big.

See, I love my body.  I’ve worked very hard to learn to love my body.  But comments like yours aren’t helping.

Me And Venus Williams

Yup, just like me…

Venus Williams and I have a lot in common.  I know, you’re surprised.  I was too.  But hey, we’re both talented, self-confident, stunning, and chronically ill.  (Wait, I forgot modest!)

You may recall that my twin under the skin, Venus, withdrew from the U.S. Open last year and announced that she is battling Sjogren’s Syndrome.   Hey, me too!  I was first diagnosed shortly after I turned 30, and Venus is the first famous person I’ve heard of with the same disease.  Wa-hoo!  This is great!

Okay, I know you’re thinking “WTF?  How is this great?”.  Well, Sjogren’s is not very common, and it’s very misunderstood.  Now that a celebrity has gone public on this issue, people are actually aware of it.  That’s a good thing.

I admit to not being totally thrilled with some of the coverage (we could create a lot of jobs if news organizations actually used fact checkers), but even a semi-accurate story is better than none.  And, because sometimes I’m not a very nice person, I will also cop to being a little annoyed that Venus initially seemed to be downplaying our illness.   Then just this past Monday, she was forced to withdraw from the Australian Open, and my empathy kicked in.  No, Sjogren’s has not forced me to give up a career that I trained for my entire life, and at which I was unbelievably successful, but it has stolen many things from me.  I work hard fighting this disease, and have been, according to one of my four hundred or so doctors, incredibly successful.

“Incredibly  successful” in this context means that most weeks I have five or six days during which I can live my life at about 75% of the capacity I had before.  (Like everyone I know with a life-altering illness, “before” and “after” always refer to my diagnosis, which by the way, came about four years after the first symptoms appeared.  I still hold a grudge against the doctors at Yale-New Haven Hospital, just so you know.)

Living with a chronic illness changes everything.  What surprises me daily is that not all of those changes are bad.