2016… whatever

Yeah, yeah, I know… I’m a lazy blogger who hasn’t written in months and now suddenly NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION TIME and here I am. five days late, even. But sue me, nobody is reading this anyway. And if you are and you feel offended about being called a nobody. READ THE GODDAMN BLOG TITLE AGAIN, sensitive idiot.

And with that rant to protect my own fragile ego complete let me keep prattling on about my new year’s resolutions and how they’re going so far. Since one of them is to write more, and really this unimaginative bullshit is all I can think of, and it’s already been five days since I made that stupid promise to myself.

I signed up for a month of yoga classes. Some online coupon that offered one month unlimited classes for only $20. Why not? I’m a white twenty something young woman in the early 00’s. And I’ve never been to a yoga class. I feel I’m falling out of touch with my demographic.

Technically I should have started yesterday. But the class was at 9:30 am and it was the coldest day of the year so far. (And also I got lost on the way and spent an hour walking outside on the coldest day of the year, but the first excuse makes me sound less dumb.)

I was late. This class was at noon and I had the stupid idea to drink a coffee at 11 am when I got up. Paranoid of repercussions I spent almost a half-hour in the bathroom reading Greg Proops’ new book. Sorry library goers who read it after me.

But anyway, out of the shitter and into the fire when I realize it’s now 11:50 and the google maps directions I printed out estimate a 12 minute walking time to my destination. I threw on my leggings, sports bra, tank top and hoodie, grabbed my coat and mat and finished with the outerwear while running down my apartment building stair well. Then I jogged to the studio.

Then I couldn’t find the door. The studio is in an industrial-looking plaza with a Vietnamese restaurant… and well a bunch of other stuff but those were the only two signs I had time to read… all in one cozy red-brick strip-type building. When I did  find the door (conveniently located past the locked up fence and up a flight of hidden concrete stairs) it had a big sign on it that said “please use rear entrance. Well shit. Now You know why I described the building. it’s not a small place, and I’m already late. now I have to deal with Vietnamese dumpsters to get to this godforsaken studio. and it’s COLD OUT.

Wheezing and panting I make it in to the building, up more narrow stairs and down a middle-school-esque hallway lined with empty shoes until I find the door marked “yoga.”

12:03, not bad time, but the class has already started. I ask the girl at the desk, about my age and gorgeous, if I am too late to sneak in. She does some sign-language to the instructor through a window in the door to the class room and then tells me to go in and set up in the empty spot at the front of the room.

I immediately felt like I was in a weird sex-cult. about 20 people were lying on their backs (feet hip-distance apart!) with their arms stretched out to the sides so I had to tip-toe over elbows to get to the empty slot next to the obligatory large, bearded, hairy bear-man with no shirt. And also directly in front of the instructor. And while I’m new to yoga, I’m not new to sports etiquette. I know how bad it is to be a late newbie. So I lie down, legs spread, heart pounding from the run breath wheezing as my lungs adjust from harsh winter air to the incense-heavy hot humid air pumping in to the room and wait for the passive-aggressive lecture to the room about how important it is to be on time.

It never came! The instructor was great, the class was an hour of easy poses (a 75  year old lady had decided today was her day to try something new as well, you GO girl!) mixed with some  light meditation and a few corny jokes about yoga straps resembling belts from the early ’90s as instruction on how to tighten/loosen them.

I left feeling relaxed and energized. And here we are me writing a gigantic snarky essay about my first yoga class. Like I’m some sassy teenager turning in my “what I did this summer” assignment after scribbling it down over a hash brown breakfast in the cafeteria.

But at least it got me writing again.

So here’s to new year’s new experiences and not judging things before getting to know them. I guess… just throwing a moral in there because it makes me feel this post has some kind of meaning I guess…


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