Oh my god, I’m so nervous! Three nights and three days at a personal retreat in north Texas.
Am I going to break down and drive the half hour to Dallas to get a big juicy burger and a mocha?
Will I find the yoga, meditation, and mantras peaceful and keep up with them, even after I come back to my hectic life?
Will I get inspired?
Will I change my life?
Will I hate every second of it?
Will they be pee drinkers? (Yoga Bitch reference – you get 10 points if you recognized it…)
Will I fit in?
Will I fart during yoga? (And what is up with all my thoughts about farting and yoga?)
Will I survive my social media blackout? (Okay, not all social media – I will be spending time writing, and if I post blogs or anything, I will tweet it, but I’m going to turn away from FB the whole time I’m there. If you actually need me, call or text. But be warned that I probably won’t have my phone on me most of the time, so I won’t get back to you right away.)
Will they kick me out for listening to Lords of Acid?
What if I forget the words to the mantra?
What if it’s actually a cult, and I’ve joined it unknowingly, and when I show up they forcibly shave my head and give me white robes to wear?
What if it’s not a cult but I shave my own head and wear white robes all weekend?
What if their “simple” accommodations don’t include toilet paper? Or what if they include really rough toilet paper?
What if they find out that I don’t use Tom’s of Maine’s toiletries and they take away my bath products as not being good for the environment?
What if they believe in living shampoo and deodorant free?
What if they judge me for wearing a bra? Or not wearing a bra?
Will I come home with long armpit hair? Long leg hair? (Okay, admission here: I already have kinda long leg hair.)
What if a crazed lunatic from a local insane asylum escapes and goes on a mad killing spree, like in any number of horror movies?
But, I’m going anyway. I’ll report back. Unless, you know, it is a cult, or unless there is a crazed killer.