I should have realized this yesterday morning but I had told my brother's fiancee, Gina, and my sister, Jackie, that I would go along with them to a free yoga session. I even said "attending" on Facebook... or "join", I don't know which one it is now.
Now if you type in in "hungover yoga" on Google you will find links to people saying yoga is a good cure for a hangover. So I must reiterate, this is not true if you have never done yoga before or not in quite some time.
There were a few things inhibiting my ability to do a split in the air or whatever other moves the people around me seemed to be grasping quite easily.
1. I was using a folded blanket as my "yoga mat" and I didn't realize what an issue this would be because it was a beginner's lesson and I thought "hey, most people probably won't have a yoga mat!" Everyone else had a yoga mat.
2. I am not a usual wearer of high heels but had decided to wear them the day before and so I had blisters and cuts (please excuse the grotesqueness of this) on my toes and ankles. They aren't too noticeable or ugly actually, just the most pain ever for me. So I was awkwardly slipping on my folded blanket as my wounds repeatedly reminded me that I can't wear shoes that every other girl can wear beautifully.
3. I had a killer stomach ache. Trying to balance and fold your body while having a stomach ache is horrible. I could have walked away and been sick instantly but I had too much pride for that. Also, I'm pretty sure the yoga teacher was staring right at me, not that there was many places to look because it was a small group of 7 people. Yet at the moment I was giving up I heard her say "If you are starting to lose focus, just come back to your breathing." IT'S NOT THAT SIMPLE!
4. There were two boys making fart noises. These boys were not part of the group but decided ruining a calming experience for strangers would be an awesome way to spend the afternoon. They did this for about 15 minutes. How am I supposed to not throw up and stay calm in that situation!? So naturally, I made giving the finger part of my yoga moves; to which my sister whispered, "That's not very yoga-like." But really, it was a very graceful giving of the finger.
5. I have bad knees. They don't like it when I strain them and even make me ice them after every time I run. So basically my entire body was up in arms (and downward dog) every time I moved.
With all of these aspects working against me, I made it to the end! And I must admit, the corpse pose at the end of the session brought me to my happy place. For those of you who do not know, the corpse pose is lying on your back and in this case for me, basking in the sun. I fell asleep for a minute or two while we were allowed to let our mind wander. This was my favorite part.
Afterwards, Gina defined the result of Sunday afternoon yoga perfectly, "My body feels like jelly."
Random thought: I live in a neighborhood of single homes with nice yards. They are not huge plots of land but they are land. I fully appreciate this fact everyday. I also have studied a lot about the American Dream. I have always believed part of the American Dream for a family man is caring for a yard of his own, as it is a source of pride and sign of success. So my question is, why are most of the yards in my neighborhood mowed and cared for by immigrants?
And no, this is not regarding immigration issues but rather simply inquiring about the change in values that have seemingly occurred over the years. I suppose it is not some major issue but it is interesting that these homes in which strangers mow their lawns are all owned by younger families than my own.
My father just turned 60 and I am the youngest of my family at 22 years old. My father still mows our lawn and cares for it like a child (granted, my brother does help him.) We may poke fun at him for it but I know he gets a lot out of this. I understand the modern man has a different role in today's world than generations before, as does the modern woman. Perhaps I am a bit more traditional, but I'm proud of my dad and brother for caring for our land themselves.
Given this train of thought I decided to call my dad and ask him why he cares about his yard so much and this was his honorable response, "I'm very busy. I'll call you back." So there it is, the real American man doing his job while he is at his job. Right on, pop.
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