Warning: the following contains a superfluous amount of quotation marks for emphasis and for dialogue; both fake & real. Reader discretion is advised.
I never want to go to Yoga, but I haven't been "up" for weight lifting again. I figured yoga would work my muscles with my own (plentiful) body weight and I'd get more flexible too.
I hate it. I love when it's done, but I don't like it.
My instructor is darling and looks like Ellie Kemper (Erin from The Office). I wish I had a photo, but even if I tried, I sit way in back and you wouldn't be able to tell anyhow. Just take my word for it. (Would I lie to you?) Her hair is more blonde now, but when I started, it was red. She's darling, always smiling (with her beautiful teeth) and is good at what she does. I do like that her class feels more yoga "workout" with positive "take time for yourself/get rid of the negative stuff" vs. being in a religious temple where we also do yoga poses. But let's face it...it's still hard exercise.
...I searched online for a pic and found one. Now feel like a creepy stalker. (Not just a regular stalker, but a creepy stalker.) I found her name listed with the gym & her facebook page. We actually have people in common! There's no way I can post it here, even if it's all good stuff because ew - CREEPY!
I'll just call her "K".
I like that K plays pop music in her class. She sometimes incorporates instrumental stuff, and I definitely lose my "umph" during those songs.
I think it's gross that the back of my hands sweat. My shoulders sweat. Every bit is sweaty. I try to tell myself, "That's how you know it's working!", and then I tell myself to "shut it".
Today while we were doing (or attempting) "Warrior" pose, I thought to myself that warrior is associated with war...and fighting...and we are built with an innate "fight or flight" mechanism...and I AM A FLIER - WHY AM I STILL HERE? I pushed through.
I sometimes wish I had a friend there with me who I could crack jokes with. Then I think of the whacked out positions that friend would be privy to seeing me in, and it's probably for the best that I go alone.
I'm thankful no one farts in this class; or at least nothing audible. I've heard that happens. Or maybe I'm thankful the people around me don't, and I'm even more thankful I haven't.
I wonder if K can read minds. Sometimes pushing through a difficult move or rounds, she will say, "Think positively!", "You're awesome!" "You can do it!" at the exact same time I'm thinking, "I can't do this!", "This sucks!" or "F***!". She probably can't. I just say those things & let loose (in my mind) through most of the class.
I've heard of "Hot Yoga". What. the. heck. I am DYING in this big Group X room. I want to beg K to please turn on the fans, but then I wonder if she's trying to make it her own "Warm & Stifling Yoga". I prefer my "hot & humid" to be while I'm on vacation with a cocktail in hand.
Class ends with nap time. Each person lies peacefully on her or his mat, eyes closed. This is much like you would do in pre-school. I like to put my bandana (gross & damp with sweat at this point) over my eyes to block out the light. I've had to leave class early before, but in general I stay. I mean, nap time is the best part of Yoga! I certainly wouldn't say it's worth going to class, just to get the resting time, but I liken it to a Dum Dum sucker you get while Trick-or-Treating. You complain when you get it, but you still pop that thing in your mouth, enjoying that small taste of Cream soda while it lasts.
As I was leaving the room, I saw Ina Garten's face smugly smiling down at me from the TV screen. I really wanted to be on a machine just watching her mix up loads of butter ("How easy was that?"). In hindsight, however, once class is done, I'm always glad I did it. It's not enough to make me like it, but I know I've done something good for my body and for my future self.
I really want to channel my inner Jesse Pinkman here...