Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Finally. I am doing it. Yoga. My first time in a real-life yoga class. I even have a squishy roll-up pad. For about five years I have been gently tapped, and heartily slapped... metaphorically speaking, but none of these hints from the cosmos seemed adequate to shake me from my rut. (Tempted to say something about my "butt," because of the rhyme, however that would be too obvious, physically speaking, so never mind.) Consider my rut shaken. I am on my way.
Corina, if I cry, or try to bolt,
just hang with me, sister.
I need you.
Yoga studios, in this area, are as common as memes on Youtube. They are everywhere. And everywhere I see the fit-stylish-fit-young-fit yogis, with their outfits, and their gear, and their confident yogi swagger, glowing, radiant in their chakra aligned temples. And believe me, none of this is the least bit intimidating... it is very intimidating.
I am about to puke.
How to pick?
Where to go?
What about conflicting schedules?
Will they be mean, or worse: excessively nice?
What if my body and their instructions clash, do battle, and I am left bloodied and shamed?
What if I *art? (Sorry. I am trying to be graceful here, but the anxiety is powerful, and I would be less than genuine if I did not share that fear of this possibility has kept me far, faraway from any yoga studio, or meditation retreat.)
What do I wear?
Does this require new clothes, because I am loath to shop, and completely opposed to wearing boutique outfits.
Can I wear socks?
Can I have the space at the back of the room, next to the wall? I won't even go if I cannot have the space at the back of the room, next to the wall.
Please, don't let there be mirrored walls.
I have amassed no less than forty-two reasons to stay away from public fitness arenas... and now I plan to suppress almost as many excuses, and concerns about going out today. Some of my issues, I like to believe, are valid, and worthy of contemplation, resolution. Most of them are weenie. This is the day I ignore my fears, common sense, weenie excuses, and go. Just, go!
Corina. We can do this. I will be there for you... in fact, I wouldn't be there if it weren't for you. It makes me happy to realize that forty-two excuses and fears amount to nothing, if I have a good friend by my side. I'm just sorry I ate baked beans for breakfast.