Saturday, January 17, 2009


Except for the previous month, it's been about eight months of my not working out due to this medical treatment. I always loved weightlifting and cardio, but my flexibility is terrible. I have to do something about it, as boring as I think stretching is. So I go to "Yoga High" around the corner from me (there's a Yoga studio every five block in the city on the google maps), where everyone greets each other with a hug (eek!). I hate yoga. I find it torturous and I can run circles around people at the gym and appear fit, but yoga exposes me as a total fake who shakes and falls apart after 10 minutes of poses. I also find the positions obscene and gross (I will not squat on a foam block in front of anyone) and I think the fit yoga body type is ugly as hell with their long sweat pants rolled at the waist asses - it's turning everyone into guru bodies which I'm not into. But a man's got to do what a man's got to do. The instructor was very nice and knew I had very special needs in a class like this, to say the least. She made a great effort to know and remember every name she didn't know and later kept calling me 'Rev" which I had to correct. Too cute. I was a wreck through the whole thing. I wanted to be in the front so I could be better instructed, but then everyone sees you. She certainly spoke directly to me a lot and as much as I enjoy subtle admiration or attention from people, I hate being the center of any attention - I'm mortified. I have the opposite of the star complex. I also can't be in the back because then you have the whole room's ass in your face. That's the most repulsive thing about yoga, the ass in your face. This studio was clean, but unless you bring your own, all yoga mats are dirty (no matter how much windex u take to them afterwards) and don't get me started on the blankets. "Rev, please take your socks off so you won't slip!" "I'm not removing any articles of clothing." / "Rev, please turn you face to the side and lay it on the mat!" "My face is never touching anything". She got a kick out of me. I think everyone was surprised I wasn't picked up at the end by some private movers and carted home in a satin padded box. I was told on a few occasions to rest in 'child's pose' (like in the video below!) which I refuse to do because it looks far too submissive and the name is horrible. Any child that posed like that wouldn't be a child long! I was very grateful for her sensitivity to my ink covered mangle of disoriented muscle held together with rusted staple gun staples. I loved the euphoria at the end after the misery and didn't expect it. I'm definitely going back. It's a very adorable little yoga studio.

"Keep an apple in your bag!"


Anonymous said...

Excellent Post :)


Reavis Eitel said...

I know who you are, c