fotostorm / iStock
TRY AS I DO to get in and stay in, I am always out of the loop. For example, I am not sure when it happened or why, but I don’t like yoga. To be honest, I don’t even really like yogurt all that much, although I eat it once in a while with no ill effects. But yoga truly makes me sick. I know you don’t eat it, but things you don’t eat can still sicken you.
Just the other day I tried another yoga class, perhaps my 15th over the last 10 years. I keep trying since it’s all the rage and friends say it’s relaxing, and since I suffer from anxiety and high blood pressure I do what I can.
This latest attempt was at a new yoga studio just three miles from my house, with freshly painted peach-colored walls and lots of comfy pillows strewn about the polished light wood floors. It was all very feminine, sort of like being in a Tampax ad. Still, even though the teacher was supportive and the dozen or so other students were quite friendly in a serious and somber sort of way, I felt like a dumb cluck doing all those dog poses and sun salutations and whatever else.
“Relax the tongue. Relax the jaw.” I hate all that forced relaxation shit. It just makes me tense. And I feel stupid in those tights and with everyone looking the same. (I was the only one wearing socks, and it caused a bit of a stir.)
It’s that whole “cog-in-a-wheel” thing. Maybe when yoga falls out of fashion, I’ll start going.
