Not So Namaste

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I recently started doing yoga.  I also recently stopped doing yoga.

I suck. Athletically, that is.  Sports, exercising, working out– I basically find anything that requires sneakers and a sports bra to be highly repellent.  Thankfully, I’m one of those people with a decent enough metabolism to keep myself cruising along at a fairly satisfactory weight, without ever doing too much dieting or working out (and by “too much” I mean none at all whatsoever).  Sure, I could benefit from some salad and crunches as much as the next lazyass, but I’m not totally unhappy with the way I look.

Still I know the whole “good metabolism” thing typically wears off sometime around your mid-thirties, so I figured I might as well start doing something about it now, before I become one of those moms telling people they’re “still trying to lose the baby weight”– as they cart their youngest off to the first day of middle school.

I chose yoga because it’s pretty low-impact and I’ve heard you get to nap afterward or something like that.  Meditation, napping, same difference. I’m also fairly flexible, so I thought that would help. I can really do a mean Indian-style.  Sorry, that’s wasn’t very PC of me.  I can do a mean “criss-cross apple sauce”. That’s right, criss-cross apple sauce. That’s what the preschools are calling it these days, folks.

So I started the yoga thing. I found a class, signed up, and started yoga-ing or whatever you call it. And it went great.  I downward-facing dogged. I upward-facing dogged. I planked.  I posed like a tree, a child, a bird, a warrior. You name it, I posed like it. I really kicked ass in there. I walked out of that yoga class like a freaking boss.

I guess it didn’t exactly hurt that the class was composed entirely of post-menopausal middle-aged women, but whatever.  They were all very nice and didn’t seem to mind my ass in their face. I didn’t mind theirs either.  The ass-in-face phenomenon is apparently unavoidable in a yoga class.

So I left there pretty psyched. I did way better than I thought I would, and I actually even kind of enjoyed it.  I could have done without all that incense-burning, inner-peace, namaste bullshit, but I guess that’s part of the whole experience.  Maybe it’ll grow on me.  Or maybe not. Either way, I was still a total yogi.

Well, I was a total yogi until I woke up two weeks later with back problems.

With the exception of that time I was carrying seven-pounds of human in my uterus (and 40 pounds of pizza and chocolate bars everywhere else), I’ve never had back pain in my life.

I aged like 15 years in two days.  I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t stand. I was hunched over. I was huffing and puffing around like my 93-year old grandfather when he gets all worked up looking for the remote to put on The Price is Right.  When I almost couldn’t reach the top shelf to grab a wine glass (had to wash all that Aleve down with something), I finally drew the line.  No more yoga for me.

I think I’m just not meant to do the whole exercise thing.  And it’s so damn unfair. Some people are so  awesome at it. Why can’t I be one of those people who get addicted to endorphins? Like those people who run five miles a day and literally enjoy it. I can’t even be a person who purchases a two-year gym membership and uses it for longer than a week (true story).

Addicted to endorphins, sheesh. Sure, I have a few addictions. Coffee, Amazon.com, Big Brother (the TV show, not the conspiracy). These are things I simply cannot live without. But endorphins? I’m not even sure what these “endorphin” things even feel like.  Is it anything like a percocet before the nausea sets in? Because if so, then I can see what all the addiction is about. And if so, then maybe I need to buy me a shiny new treadmill. But I’m guessing not.

I don’t know, maybe I threw in the workout towel too soon.  Maybe when I realized I could actually work up a sweat without hurling on my yoga mat, I started to overdo it– which is what screwed up my back.  Maybe I just need to scale it back a little on all the crazy posing.

What is that cliche workout saying? No pain, no gain? Just do it? No hustle, no muscle? (I might have actually just made that last one up. I’m not sure. But it’s pretty clever, if I do say so myself.)

I think I’ll make up another one.  How about “you’re 32 and you haven’t worked out in ten years, you lazy piece of crap. Get off the damn couch, shut off Big Brother, put the bag of Fritos away, and go for a fucking walk”.

Nailed it.

Anyone up for some yoga?

You Know it’s the First Day of School When…

blogSo it would have been nice if I’d posted this on the actual first day of school (which was Thursday here in NYC), but like many of you, I drank a little too much celebratory wine that day and was in no position for organized thought. The memory is still quite fresh, though, so read on for some classic first day of school occurrences.

1. Every other post in your Facebook newsfeed is a picture of a kid sporting a new book bag and a forced smile.

2. Staples looks like Toys R Us on Christmas Eve.

3. Your teacher friends are all on suicide watch.

4. You made the face in the above picture trying to locate everything on your child’s supply list.

5. The line in the haircut place was even worse than Staples.

6. You lost your toddler at least once amidst the chaos of first day dismissal.

7. You managed to avoid hitting too many red lights, but you still got stuck behind at least two school buses.

8. So. Much. Contact. Paper.

9. You’ve mentally prepared a list of all the parents you hope to avoid running into (and inevitably end up seeing them all). Side note: I just gave myself an idea for a future blog 😉

10. You forgot to set your alarm and almost missed morning drop off.

–or–

You pressed snooze so many times you almost missed morning drop off.

–or–

You missed morning drop off.

11. You’ve made a long list of things to do when the kids leave for school, but instead you spend the morning drinking coffee, watching TV, and liking everyone’s first day pics on Facebook.

12. You have so many permission slips to sign that you stop reading them after a while and just start signing. You’re not sure, but you might have just accidentally nominated yourself for PTA president.

13. You haven’t heard the words “common core” in over two months (but that will change very soon).

14. You spent a small fortune on brand new fall clothes for school and you’re dying to see how great the kids look in them. Too bad it’s 85 degrees and humid.

15. Your daughter tells you her best friend isn’t in her class, and it’s a straight up crisis.

16.  Your eyes sort of watered a bit when you dropped off your youngest, but you’re not entirely sure if they were tears of sadness or tears of joy.  Probably both.