So I’m yogacizing every Wednesday night, and wait hold on can I just say that this yoga (or as Cade would say, “Oga”) class is not what I anticipated it to be? Yoga’s ‘sposed to be all about finding your center and the universe within, like, your bowels, and relaxation and breathing techniques, etc, but I can never do any of these things because I am too busy doing a) focusing on not passing out from the frequent cycling from downward facing dog to cobra to tabletop to plank then down again, b) not looking like I’m having a seizure because my muscles are shaking from exhaustion, c) worrying about my arse size in all of this, then giggling to myself as I think of the line from Saved: “Hey Hilary Faye, I can see your pad!”
...I mean, if push came to shove, I’d have to say that yoga is anything but relaxing. And I was nurturing my soul or whatever like my instructor was telling me to do, you know, not going into full-on positions if they were not comfortable, and still, my dear readers, Mama struggled, mostly because I don't understand how I have a universe inside me, and actually being kind to myself is kind of a new concept too, cackle cackle.
...And then at the end, when we were relaxing and being kind to ourselves and the universe and practicing compassion I guess, I was laying on my back with my eyes closed, hands at the heart, trying to recover and look less beat up than I felt. And suddenly – suddenly I feel this HAND ON MY FACE and I yelped. Loudly. And it echoed in that big room while we were supposed to be having a moment of silence. And it was the instructor putting a warm cloth on my head that smelled like lavender, and I was so embarrassed I was all about to go R.A.D. on her ass, but what was I supposed to do, I mean someone came up behind me and TOUCHED MY FACE without me expecting it. I mean, right? And then it sucked cuz I was embarrassed and plus I’m allergic to lavender, and when we were done and did the Namaste thing, I looked around, and every other student (of about 2 dozen or so) had lavender head-wraps, and only I’d screamed and gotten ready to go all Rambo on my instructor's 4’3” petite adorable ‘lil self. PS Her name is D and she's cute as a button and I like HULK over her and when she introduced herself to me and held out her hand, I swear my giant bear paw was like 485747 times bigger than her little thumbelina-sized one and when I shook it I swear I almost like CRUSHED it. CRUSHED it! Brie is a tall glass of water, and Girlfriend is like a shot.
At any rate.
Not sure if I’m going to continue the class, or just run instead. I normally love yogacizing but this feels more like yogastressing. Ideas? Discuss.
Mom, wife, reader, writer, and napper extrordanaire. I think Ed sucks and life rocks. If you read my blog, you will find a fruitful abundance of evidentiary support regarding my neatness factor. It's pretty intense.