Everyone is all about The Yoga. It’s not a typo; I’ve made it a proper name. Where I live, if you aren’t joined up with some Yoga class, don’t own $500 worth of Yoga gear, haven’t gone through 2 Yoga mats, you just aren’t a citizen of The United Zen of Yoga. Whatever. I pay my taxes; I’m not an illegal immigrant! I just don’t get The Yoga.
I am not one to mock it until I try it. So, I’ve tried it and I didn’t like it. My yoga instructor couldn’t believe that someone my age was not flexible. She said this to me when we were in the Impossible Pretzel pose (yes that’s the proper name for it). Yeah because that’s so natural to everyone in my age group! I can’t help it. I’m not bendy.
So fast forward a few years later and now I’m still just as unbendy as the day I was failing the Impossible Pretzel pose. However, after much encouragement (read: harassment), I’ve decide to give it a go again. This time, I’ve decided to try Hot Yoga. Apparently, it’s a new thing for all those poseurs who couldn’t get enough of regular room-temperature yoga. Well, my acupuncturist said the heat would make me more flexible. Talk about poseur, yeah, I said I have an acupuncturist. So there all you Lululemon lemmings! I have a guy, what do you have? Expensive pants?? I digress...
I’ve recruited my dear friend Pea, and we have started our hot yoga routine (sans Lulu outfits). So how’s it going you ask? Er, I have the introductory pass in hand and know where the studio is. The Yoga cosmos must be seriously out of line because I have attempted to attend twice now with no success!
First, Pea and I have major scheduling issues. Pea has the luxury of no day job right now and has been enthralled in the life of a university student. We finally picked a date and time. She calls me 10 minutes before the class to say she is stuck in traffic. She doesn’t understand what rush-hour is anymore. I forgive her. Besides, it’s not like I was dying to namaste my ass into gear for 1.5 hours in a 40 degree room with 90 of my closest, sweaty, poseur friends. So no big deal, we try again the next day.
Second attempt and we were more prepared. We even carpooled – how eco and zen of us! I stopped for gas and when we were on our way to nirvana – the car wouldn’t start. The dials in my car made these flicky, poltergeist-possessed motions that prompted us to immediately jump out of the car and go for help. Hello, not good.
The lovely clerk in the gas station was nice enough to have a look and determined we just needed a jump-start. Now I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, even though we’ve just met, but I don’t know the first thing about cars. Well, I know how to operate one, put gas in it when it says to, and take it to the mechanic when they send me that cute notice in the mail. My equally diva-princess friend Pea, on the other hand was surprisingly all over the jumper cables and popping the hood and all that stuff! Love her more now! She claims all that info is in the car’s manual. I have no idea where my manual is.
Newly pumped with electricity, the car takes us on our way to yoga. By the time we get to the parking lot, the car DIES while it’s running. Now I said I knew nothing about cars, but that much I know is bad.
We ditched another attempt at yoga to focus on getting home with my dead car. Pea was kind enough to flag down strangers in the parking lot, asking for a jump-start. Meanwhile, I was on the phone trying to get a hold of a friend in the neighbourhood. She returned from her mission in deep despair. “Everyone said no! They actually refused!” Duh, secretly I already knew that no one would help, so that’s why I didn’t bother. Poor Pea, her rose-coloured view of life thought people would be nice and rush to our distress. Hellz no, that’s why I was on the phone with someone I knew wouldn’t say no!
My friend wasn’t really available, so my bf came to the rescue. I think it makes him feel good when I don’t know what I’m talking about and he gets to be the man and fix things with a wrench and bang on things that I’m worried he’s going to break and he gets to tell me how silly I’m being and he knows what he’s doing. We eventually made it all home safe and sound (well, except my car that has a dead battery).
Lessons learned today – always have jumper cables stored in your car (they don’t come standard), strangers aren’t always helpful, so make sure you have available friends on speed dial. And three times a charm for my road to bendiness.
