Folks, I am a yogi. No, I am not referring to me being a bear that steals picnic baskets – I am talking about the art of twisting one’s body into painful to look at and often uncomfortable positions. However, saying I am a yogi is like saying George W Bush is a member of Mensa International.
I am like the Chris Farley of Yogi’s. In other words, I am a fat bastard that spends more time and energy trying to figure out how to get into a pose than actually being in the pose itself.
My instructor has tried to help me. She has told me that I shouldn’t care whether or not I am achieving the pose because it is my own personal yoga. But I can’t even achieve child’s pose! That is supposedly a pose that is so easy a child can do it – well then, those are some talented f***ing children!
My version of downward facing dog should be renamed “toilet hugging frat boy” – mainly because I look like I could vomit at any minute. My dog actually can achieve this pose, and she looks at me lamely as I butcher it – she even barks at me and rolls her eyes to let me know how badly I am f***ing it up!
I dare the manliest of men to try the yoga push-up. I thought regular push-ups were hard! Joan can do like thirty in a minute…I can do one in thirty minutes. Okay, I’ll admit that while most men would be intimidated by a woman who is physically stronger than they are, I can honestly say it turns me on a bit.
The arm balance poses are the worst. Apparently, I have no upper body strength at all. Take crow pose for instance. This pose has one balancing their body on their forearms. I can do that – for a second…then, I am punching the floor with my face. I even tried putting a blanket between me and the tile, but that only made me slide forward and crash into a wall like a drunken roller-blader.
Then there are poses that anyone can do. Like sitting up straight with your legs straight in front of you…of course, when I say anyone, I actually mean anyone other than me because I can’t get my gut out-of-the-way enough to be able to properly sit up. Instead of making a 90 degree angle, I make the letter “V”. Usually these poses come after the more challenging poses, so not only do I look like a “V”, I am so out of breath that I sound like a wounded caribou. You have to understand that yoga is breathing, so, it is safe to say that you don’t want the fire department to show up at your studio because they mistook your wheezing for a four-alarm fire.
Other poses have caused me to do in-depth soul-searching to understand their meanings. I think I figured out why they call them the “warrior” poses. It’s because you are waging war with yourself to achieve them. Sure, they look easy enough, but I can tell you that it isn’t hard to fall over and land on your neighbor – which is why no one will work out next to me anymore. Also, you should be careful that you don’t accidentally judo-chop someone as you transition from Warrior I to Warrior II. Doing this will make even the most devout pacifist slap the living shit out of you.
The only pose I am good at is savasana or corpse pose. That’s because it only requires me to lay on my back and sleep. The worst thing I can do to screw this up is to snore – which will inevitably led to Joan kicking the hell out of me in order to get me to stop. She says something about savasana supposed to be meditation not sleep, but I say if they didn’t want you passed out they wouldn’t make the work-out so exhausting and then following that up by dimming the lights and playing Barry Manilow in the background. There are only two reasons to dim the lights and play Manilow – and after a yoga workout, you are too tired for one of them.
A few years ago, I attempted yoga and was laughed out of the gym by a group of pretentious snobs. Now, I have found a studio that doesn’t care if I am competent, so long as I show up. I could take a nap in the back of the room for the whole session and they would encourage me to keep chasing enlightenment! I love those guys (and gals)!
For better or worse, I am a yogi…even if my perceptions of it all may seem a little twisted. I love attempting to enter a contortionists territory…even if all I achieve is flopping around the floor like a whale on crowded beach.