Namaste, Bitch.

I fell in love with yoga last January.

I wrote about that true love moment here (read that one if you missed it — it’s one of my favorites).

And then, as we headed into summer, I completely fell off the yoga wagon. It was just too hard for me to get to a class with the summer schedule.

Then once fall rolled back around, things got even worse.

There wasn’t a single class at the Y that I could make it to.

Joining a yoga studio isn’t exactly in the budget.

But I’ve been beating the crap out of my body.

Two marathons in the last month has taken a toll.

And my brain needed it just as bad as my body.

I’ve been trying to find a way to get back to yoga, but I haven’t been enable to make it work.

And then last week, when I spent a day out and about, selling advertising spots on my website, I walked into a yoga studio here in town.

I walked down the stairs and into the reception area.

There was an instructor there.

And she looked at me and she said,

“I know you from the internet. You’re Not Your Average Mom.”

I was a little bit shocked.

Okay. I was a lot shocked.

She’s a fairly new instructor trying to build up her client base.

We talked.

She used the word bitch in our conversation.

I liked her.

A lot.

Fifteen minutes later, I left the office with her email written on a business card.

There was a reason I walked into that studio when she was there.

It was supposed to happen that way.

I could use her help.

And she could use mine.

So a couple days later I emailed her and she gave me her schedule.

She had a Sunday class I could make it to. She told me it was hit or miss at that particular time.

Some days she’d have a few people show up, and other days, there would be no one.

When I pulled into the parking lot on Sunday, I was the only one there.

Shit.

I did not want to do a one-on-one yoga class.

I hesitantly opened the door to the studio. Maybe there were other people in there that I hadn’t seen.

Nope.

She was the only one in there.

“We don’t have to do this just for me,” I told her.

I was sure she’d want to cancel.

She didn’t.

Fuck.

And so, I immediately started stressing.

The total opposite of what you ideally want to do in a yoga class.

She was wearing a really cool yoga outfit.

I was wearing pants I got at Costco a couple years ago that kept rolling over the top of my stomach and settling directly under my gut.

I had also gone for a run about an hour before I got there and I really could have used a shower.

I prefaced the hour by making sure she knew how bad I sucked at yoga.

And then I spent the next fifteen minutes focusing on the stray hairs I kept finding on my pants, the chipped nail polish on my toes that looked like Number 7 had applied it, whether or not I was going to totally fart and have no one to blame it on, and the constant battle I was having with the waistband of my fucking Costco yoga pants.

She didn’t care. This finally sunk in.

And then I finally relaxed.

I didn’t stress about the fact that I couldn’t come close to touching my toes or that my feet were super sweaty or that when she said step or jump your foot up, I had to take like fourteen baby steps to get my foot to the spot it was supposed to be in.

I just let go.

And again, a yoga experience I was initially dreading turned out to be really incredible.

Thanks to Beth.

Sure, she takes yoga seriously.

And she is passionate about it.

But she didn’t have a Shhhhh, this is a serious yoga practice stick up her ass when I giggled a couple times as I was completely unable to do something. or when I muttered yeah, right under my breath as she suggested a different pose that I knew there was no way in hell I’d even come close to holding successfully.

So yeah.

I’m so grateful she was in that studio last Wednesday when I decided to walk in that door.

And I didn’t tell her I was going to write this.

We don’t have some sort of if-you-give-me-a-free-class-I’ll-say-something-nice-about-you kind of an arrangement.

It just feels like the right thing to do.

Just like yoga is the right thing for me to do.

If yoga intimidates you but you’d like to try it and you live around here, let me know.

There’s nothing to stress about.

I’ve got just the person for you.

 

 

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