Well, really, the title says it all. But I'll elaborate, so
the depths of my mortification can be made apparent:
This evening, I decided to try my first yoga session. After
a lengthy conversation with "Alyson" (who informed me that the y "makes all the
difference!" whatever the hell that means) about what class would be best
for me, I decided to disregard her suggestion and start with the basics. After
all, I worked out once a long time ago and I’m still sore.
So, there I was, yoga-ing like a champ—sun salutationing,
downward-facing dogging, and warrior posing up a storm. After about an hour we took a break, getting
into child’s pose. As I leaned back,
there it was…the toot heard ‘round the YogaDen.
I was paralyzed with terror.
I couldn’t believe my body betrayed me like that, after all of the good
things I’ve been doing for it recently (more on my fruit fixation and hatred of
work out DVDs tomorrow). So I just
decided to stay in child’s pose for the full 5-minute break, giggling to
myself. I did take a peek at the woman
beside me, and you would’ve thought I just kicked a kitten. But whatever, she had a wedgie the entire
time and her side-boob was out of control, so I may have lost the battle but I definitely
won the war.
The instructor was so kind about it; she off-handedly mentioned
something about yoga being great for releasing the body’s toxins, and even gave
me a pat on the back later to prove to everyone I’m not a leper. I just had some bubbleguts. Overall, I think that yoga is definitely for
me—I felt more relaxed than I have in a long time, and it took my mind off of my
self-imposed stresses and worries. The others
in the class were welcoming and kind, even after I ruined their chi with a
fart. I’m trying to break out of my
comfort zone, so even if I’m referred to as “Torlone the Tooter” for the rest
of my time at the YogaDen, I’ll be going back tomorrow…and the next day.
I just might make sure and take some Beano :o/
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