*OK, maybe not hate. But let me explain.
I had the rare evening to myself tonight. DadJovi just got a new iPhone yesterday and he wanted to go to the Apple store to check out cases. He volunteered to take E. with him and then he decided to take her to see the new Disney kitty-cats movie. (OK, maybe they’re bigger than kittens. But they’re just as cute!)
About 10 minutes into the class, I realized why it felt so foreign to me. I have not been to a yoga class since PRENATAL YOGA. What? How could it have been that long? Instead of focusing on poses, I started going through the memory banks and realized that although I’ve done some yoga on the Wii during the past 3+ years, I have not set foot in a class since my last prenatal yoga. Yikes.
But back to why I hate yoga. I adore the idea of yoga. I know I need some centering in my life. And I’ve been having a ton of neck and wrist problems lately, and frankly, I can’t afford the frequent massages that would help those pains. So yoga seems a logical option to help me through those issues as well as giving me some much-needed toning.
At first, things started out fine. I was loving the rolling stretches and getting my hips stretched out. And I got reacquainted with my old friends downward dog and warrior pose. And of course, my favorite post, mountain. It’s so simple yet so sublimely relaxing and it actually DOES make your body feel better.
But then there are those parts of yoga that make me hate it.
- Yoga has made me realize that I must have freakishly short arms. I first noticed this during my prenatal days, but I figured my body was just out of sorts because of the TONS of extra weight I was lugging around. Tonight confirmed my initial fears — I have the arms of a Hobbit. For the life of me, I cannot get them to meet behind my back when I’m supposed to. You know when you lift your left arm behind your head and reach toward the middle of the back? Yeah, there’s no possible way for my right arm to reach up behind my back and grab it. Trust me. I heard a serious pop when I tried to force that pose tonight and nearly screamed out in pain. Oh, and that move where you reach one arm between your legs, as you’re leaning forward in warrior pose, and again try to grab it on your back with the other hand? Well, now the teacher and the other students were just taunting me. It ain’t happening.
- Yoga has also made me realize that I have the flexibility of an arthritic old man. Tonight, towards the end of the class, we sat there with our legs spread apart, reaching for our toes. All of the sudden, the outside of my upper left thigh was seized by spasms and cramps. WTF? I had to slide my legs almost together. OK, you should know, I was a cheerleader in high school. Once upon a time, I was required to do toe-touch jumps. In.the.air. And in my prime (OK, that prime may have been 8th grade), I could do splits. But those things never came easily to me. I can remember my mom spending HOURS helping me stretch and stretch to get me ready to do toe touches for tryouts. She finally discovered the secret — a diving board. But now? I don’t even think I could do an A-Line jump (you former cheerleaders will realize how lame that is).
- And finally, yoga confirms what I’ve always known. I have no balance. There was a reason my gymnastics teacher encouraged my mom to find me another sport –I couldn’t stay on the dang beam. And Missy will recall the time in college I fell off a very wide wall in front of our dorm — in front of our two crushes! I’ve been known to trip just walking, so the idea of balancing on one foot with the other leg extended out behind me? Yeah, it’s not pretty. I kept doing the tippy tip over to the sides thing and having to use my hands to catch myself. Madonna will not be inviting to her yoga retreats any time soon. That flexible, toned, and core-strong bitch. Who needs her?
I know these are probably all things to be expected during my first time back on the mats but I can’t help but be discouraged. I’m not trying to do some fancy poses where you stand on your head or hover over the ground. I just want to not tip over during the different positions of warrior pose. Is that too much to ask? Oh, and if someone could teach my arms how to intertwine with each other, that’d be super.
By the time the teacher said Namaste I was so frustrated that my face was doing its annoying spasms (more on that later). And as for centering? Well, it’s taking every calming vibe in my body right now not to scream at DadJovi for slurping the milk out of his cereal bowl.
I think it’s time I tried pilates.