I keep trying yoga. I like the fact that very few people "master" the practice, rather it's an activity where one can constantly grow and stretch--both literally and figuratively. I love the way yoga cleanses the mind and challenges the body. I cling to the hope that yoga will one day make me stand up a little straighter and stretch a little farther.
At least this is the me I see in my head: a graceful woman, self-assured and poised on her mat.
Alas, I fear the reality is the bumbling butterball who's sweating like a sinner in church on Sunday. But, you know, that's the great thing about yoga. The instructor said today, "We're not giving away any medals today, so do what you can." Her words empowered me, and I made it through my very first hot yoga class with a smile on my face.
Then I got home.
I'm pretty sure God has an incredibly well developed sense of humor. I'm equally sure I shouldn't have written that post about avoiding sayings on your underwear. Here's the stupid thing I did today: I needed a pair of underwear that wouldn't show off my pantyline. Of course, I haven't finished laundry so I grab a new pair of Vicki's yoga underwear, consider the fact I should wash them first as the instructions suggest, shrug my shoulders and head to the bathroom to take the tags off. (Yes, there's more than one cautionary tale here.)
The panties are hot pink.
On the back they say "Hot Stuff."
I went to hot yoga.
I sweated so much that when I went to take a shower, I had a hot pink panty tattoo on my posterior from where the panties were NOT color fast. Do you hear me, world? Do as I say and not as I do: wash your clothes before you wear them and know with all certainty that, yes, you should wash your hot pink Vicki's panties in cold with like colors.
I imagine these sorts of things amuse God. Almost as much as the construction workers on the roof of the adjacent building were amused to look down and discover a room full of women doing yoga. They had to be even more amused to see the butterball in the back struggling to keep up.
Well, guess what? I live to entertain, so I'll keep getting healthy and you can keep chuckling. Even if hot yoga left a hot pink imprint from my "Hot Stuff" undies.
As a side note, I'm going to be writing about my adventures at Be Yoga on the Healthy Writer blog later this week. It was phenomenal. If you live in the Marietta area, this yoga studio is even better than what I imagined a good yoga studio would be. And, hey, if I can do it, anyone can--just wash your undies first. Oh, and no sayings.