So, I finally decided to the plunge back into yoga after a very long break. During Oscar season I slip into a black hole of sitting-on-couch-way-too-long – or at computer, as the case may be. So I’ve been slowly working back up the strength to get back in the yoga groove. I’ve been running, I’ve been hiking but today, for the first tie in months, I took the yoga plunge. Yoga is hit and miss when it comes to teachers. You either luck out with a great teacher (meaning they pay attention to their class and allow for limitations, levels and skill. I prefer a 1-2 class, rather than a level 2. I only got there once and just barely. I hope to get to a 2-3 at some point. I’m not there yet. I really should have gone into a level 1 class today but be that as it may, I hung in there. It was half wonderful, half nightmarish. Not enough regular yoga flow and too much weird contorting of poses that seem to have been made up by the teacher that mixed dance with yoga. That would be okay if you felt like you were getting a good workout at the same time. It wasn’t a serene experience either because the teacher was so punishing. Worse still, he was male, and pretty cute. And there is nothing worse than a cute yoga teacher. He stood about five inches away from me during most of the class, again, awkward. But, as with almost every yoga class, one is grateful for it, no matter how hard it gets. This one was hard and kind of weird but not altogether objectionable. You can’t have everything.
So, some weird yoga things for you.
Look, nude male yoga!
Ouch!
I really hate this pose
Ouch!
I really don’t get the nude yoga trend. Being a top-heavy female I can only imagine the floppity floppity.
I spend way too much thinking about me.
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