I know this much about Yoga, I would love to learn how to do it, but I don’t think people with an abundant chest can pull some of these moves off.
When I tie my shoe’s I’m out of breath. I can hardly focus on anything other then holding my breath and wondering, why in God’s creation should tying your shoe’s be a dag gum work out?
I’ve seen people, listened to people and read a friend of mine’s blog, (IcyExhale) and can appreciate the fine art of Yoga. I love the clothes and can understand the meaning behind “finding your center,” but I just don’t know if I could put myself in those positions. I mean for gosh sake, read (Classic Alena). I’m accident prone, I’d end up domino-effecting the whole class.
I can see it now;
“Um Alena, maybe this isn’t your thing. Maybe your inner-core is fighting against you and winning. Why don’t you try something like pottery or painting,” say’s the tiresome yoga instructor.
“What? Pottery? Seriously? Something wet and spinning. Can you not see the hazard involved in such an activity when that includes me?” I say back to her.
So to all of you Yoga enthusiast, I applaud you and your downward dog’s and self-calming chants. For now, I’ll sit comfortably on my couch, with a piece of chocolate cake, my laptop and American Idol and find my inner-fat kid and make her happy.
Don’t get me wrong, I would love to master Yoga, but I think I might have too much A.D.D. or something. I’ve watched a YouTube video of a Yoga class and just watching the video made me relaxed. Yoga takes talent and physical coordination, which I don’t possess.