Until the age of 22 or 23, when someone said the word "yoga," I pictured someone doing karate. Then, my friend Matt started doing yoga and became obsessed with it, and since then I've suffered a barrage of pleadings to give it a try. Matt has assured me, time and time again, that this would change my life, and that I'd be much happier and healthier if I got into it.
This went on for three years, and for three years, I never really got around to it. It's not that I doubted that Matt was right. Like any exercise, I imagined that you probably did feel really good afterward and that it was good for you in the long run, etc. It's just that it kind of freaked me out. First, I still kind of pictured karate. Second, I had heard about a lot of chanting that allegedly took place, and pictured everyone glaring at me when I didn't know how to speak Buddhist and chant with them. Third, I pictured it being all girls. Fourth, I'm an incredibly inflexible person. I pictured having to sit Indian style, which feels to me how it feels to other people when they tear their ACL.
But Saturday morning, I found myself walking down the street in Santa Monica, hungover, exhausted, and generally feeling like death, when I passed a little yoga studio. I paused, and checked out the schedule. As it turns out, they had a class at 10:30am, and it was 10:20am. I took a deep breath-- "What the hell?" I thought. And so, I gathered up all the bravery I could muster, and headed in.
Everyone was sitting on mats, in gym clothes. I was standing there in jeans with no mat, immensely aware of myself. The instructor came towards me. Fear ran through my veins. "He knows I don't know Buddhist!" I worried. Luckily, he didn't hurt me, or even yell at me. He told me to grab a mat from the back. So I did. I even had time to run to my car and get shorts.
Anyway, I gutted it out. The session lasted an hour and a half. Some comments:
- Yoga hurts.
- A lot. There was one point when I was twisted around that I think I snapped my hip, and another when I'm pretty sure I pulled my back.
- I felt degraded every time the instructor referred to me as a "dog."
- Picking a time when I was ridiculously hungover to finally try yoga was a bizarre decision on my part. There was one point when I was squatting in some hideous position, twisted in some despicable manner, holding my hands together like I was praying, when I started to get the nauseous spins. Not the best moment of my Saturday.
- There were about half men and half women, a pleasant surprise.
- Females are much, much more attractive than males. And I'm not saying that as a straight male. I'm saying that as an objective observer. On one side of me was a woman-- graceful, sleek, smooth, and generally aesthetically pleasing. On the other side was a man-- sloppy, gawky, pale, and hairy. Just an immensely different aesthetic level between one half of the species and the other. The starkest contrast is regarding thighs. Female thighs tend to be pleasant at worst. Male thighs are one of the most hideous sights the eye can see.
- The chanting freaked me out, as planned.
One other note-- as one commenter suggested, no I was not fired from Reality Dish. I just had a busy week last week and didn't have time to write a recap. There will certainly be one for this week after Omarosa's valiant attempt to secure the title for "Worst Person Ever." It'll be up sometime tomorrow--