So, I tried yoga...again. You see, I've always been a lover of pilates and a believer of "yoga? oh, yes, that's an hour of trying to avoid one of two things: farting or laughing at someone who has farted."However, I have not visited the gym for a long time, and I needed something easy on my geriatric body, so I took a gander at the class offerings. Spinning? No, I don't need to set my ass on fire today. Body pump? Ohh no no no, my biceps and I are far from prepared at this juncture. Lil' Dragons? Welp, I am not in the 4-6 age bracket, so no. And then I saw an "Alignment Yoga" class, and it sounded (the most) appealing.
You see, aside from the flatulence (and snoring at the end) that accompanied the three other yoga classes I attended, I am about as flexible as a titanium rod. The fact of the matter is that I cannot touch my toes unless I bend my knees. You see why yoga intimidates me?
Anyway, I arrived early because I was not going to be that girl in the front of the class to show everyone what not to do. I forgot a mat. Doh. Some kind lady told me we had to wait until the instructor arrived and opened up the Narnia cabinet, so I waited and I observed. I had to size up my competition. (Really, I needed to see if a room full of Lulu Lemon girls strutted in and proved to me that I was absolutely in the wrong place with my leggings I wear as pajamas, all covered in Roxy and Squirt fur.) The lady in front of me was stretching before yoga, which both confused and worried me. Then, a man in his, I'm guessing here, 70s sort of hobbled into the room. I was starting to feel better. Also, that man's "buddy," a younger man in his 60s, asked me what color my shirt was. I liked the class already.
Guys, I finally like yoga. Apparently, the class is filled with noobs. One lady didn't know she had to take off her shoes (despite the sign outside the door). Another lady also forgot a mat. The instructor never had to correct my posture. And I felt much taller and relaxed after class.
However, no one farted, and I can't help but feel a little disappointed.
In case you want to know--you might not, but I like to spew word vomit around these parts, which means I plan to tell you anyway--I plan to do yoga with that same instructor four times a week (along with some Zumba, of course!) for the next two-three weeks so that I can move on up to strength conditioning and, who knows, maybe even Body Pump. Whoa whoa whoa, let's not get ahead of ourselves here.
Anyway, let's carry on. Shall we?
Now that Mom takes my pictures and does a darn fine job at it, I wanted to recreate one of my favorite outfits previously taken in terrible lighting.
Sweater: Elle via Kohl's
Skirt: Francesca's (got this bad boy for $15!)
Booties: Old Navy
Scarf: Made by Momma
Belt: Came with a dress
What would a post be without some outtakes for your viewing pleasure?
I call this first one, "Mom, I got this."
I call this second one, "No one in yoga farted, but it looks like I did."
Before I leave you, I have three more things:
1. Next Trendy Tuesday is Pretty in Pastels.
(My colleagues and I are trying to usher in warmer weather.)
2. If you want to laugh so hard that funny tears obstruct your vision, read this Haribo review. (If you do NOT appreciate potty humor, then I suggest you scroll on.)
3. I think we should start a book club based on this list.
Carry on, folks.
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