Namaste my ass
Tuesday, October 23, 2007 at 09:47AM I had a conversation with my friend Robin a couple weeks ago. We decided that someday we will definitely be less inhibited and much more confident in uncomfortable situations than we are right now. With age, we’re sure we’ll learn to care less about the things that we get hung up on today. I mean look at us now compared to ten years ago when we were still in high school (crap, was that ten years ago!) and could hardly fathom changing our clothes in the girls’ locker room. Now I walk around my apartment nearly naked all the time with the shades open. Much to Brad’s dismay who would prefer me to be a little more modest given that our windows offer a direct view of the other buildings where college boys and questionable old men might live. He may have a point.
This conversation with Robin took place after we had practically sprinted in the other direction when we saw the crowd of people waiting to get into the same yoga class we were. Yoga was supposed to replace Capoeira, which I eventually talked everyone else out of. I didn’t like it and didn’t want to go again, so after some whining, everyone agreed to try yoga instead.
Well, four or five weeks went by, excuse after excuse was doled out, people politely dropped out of the group from frustration, and suddenly we realized it had been over a month since we bought these passes and we’d only attended one class. To get our money’s worth (hey ten dollars is like three whole meals at Taco Bell), last week Robin and I finally got our shit together, put on some stretchy pants and sports bras (we wore shirts too), and drove to yoga.
We walked into the building and looked down the hall that lead to the classroom. Girls. Everywhere. Young perky college girls with perky breasts and perky blond ponytails and glowing perky skin. One look and we both stopped, glanced at each other, and walked the other way. Straight out to the car and back to her apartment where we did a yoga video instead, in the privacy of her home. Nobody but us and our own flabby asses and achy joints. And it was so much better that way.
On the car ride back to her apartment we had talked about why it was okay to automatically decide to bail, why we didn’t feel bad about not even giving it a chance. Someday, maybe in another ten years, we’ll be able to walk into that room and not think twice about what those hundreds (I remember it being hundreds…) of young perky girls think. We won’t be uncomfortable or intimidated. But that’s not happening yet. And that’s okay. We’ve come a long way since high school and, dear god, the horror of middle school, and we’re confident that with age it’ll get even easier.
But for now, I think it’s okay to allow myself to choose not to participate in uncomfortable situations when I have the choice. After all, we did try. We went to one Capoeira class and we drove to yoga once. And if all I learned from the whole experience is that group exercise is not for me, I’m okay with that.
Because it is sooo not for me.
Reader Comments (5)
I love this post's title. :)
So... I should start going to yoga then?
Girl, you crack me up!
I could never do group exercise either. Never. ... I have a few videos I don't mind doing. And I recently discovered YouTube is a great place to search for and/or preview workout videos. :o) I also recently bought a mini-trampoline, which I find incredibly fun!!! (Not sure how long that will last, though. Hah.)
I love that you tried going to yoga at least. I probably wouldn't love yoga if I had a class of perky college chicks. I hate that the classmates drove you off though. My yoga class has a lot of older folk and saggy people, weirdos and granolas. I feel surprisingly young and nubile and embrace them all as an eclectic mix of compatriots. Here's hoping you find your niche!
hee hee ... well considering i am in all sorts of uncomfortable classes ~ an all male and um me kung fu class; a bellydance class full of young perky (was i ever that perky?) class and in an insane moment of clarity, i joined yoga which starts soon class and actually okay with it all tells me that in 10 more years, you'll just not care anymore that your ass drags behind you and when you move your arms, it takes a while for the bottom part to catch up and flap about ~ ahem, or is that just me?