Why I Need to Stop Doing Yoga

So I know yoga is supposed to be all about cleaning your mind and such but I’ve always believed that physical exertion should be rewarded.  This is why the last time I took a ballet class at Koresh (approximately 2.5 years ago) I headed straight from the ladies room to the Cuban restaurant on Pine St. where I proceeded to recoup any calories I’d previously burned by drinking pomegranate mojitos.

(Just in case you’re wondering, when you go from taking ballet four or five days a week to taking ballet four or five times a year, mojitos are a matter of survival.  I remember standing at the barre, attempting yet another round of grand battements and thinking to myself “Why am I doing this?  Right: because I’m going for mojitos afterwards.”  For some people, ballet is enough of a reward in and of itself.  I am not one of those people.)

But I digress.

A friend of mine is finishing up a teacher training course at a yoga studio in West Philly and she invited me to attend one of her final student-teacher classes.  Seeing as the class was free and not scheduled for some sort of ungodly hour, I accepted the invite and retrieved my yoga mat from the foot of my bed where, admittedly, it had been collecting dust for some time.

The last time I took a proper yoga class was with Date #17.  I am proud to report that this time I was properly clothed (and not hungover) in my very own color-coordinated active wear.

After the class (which was top notch, by the way), I decided I deserved a little reward.  So I headed to Jomar’s, South Philly’s ghettofabulous bargain basement (which is not the same bargain basement as the one that sells the bootyliscious Barbie dolls or the do-it-yourself paternity tests, mind you.  I do have some standards).

In the hopes that I’ll eventually acquire enough of a wardrobe to stop raiding my mother’s closet whenever I have a date, I scoured the racks.  I tried on six one-piece bathing suits, all of which had the effect of flattening my already flat chest, so I gave up on the idea of a “classy” bathing suit and headed over to the cocktail dresses.  There, I found an absolutely gorgeous champagne-colored frock with an asymmetrical neckline and a chic ruffle down the side (here is where I’d insert a photo if I’d had the forethought to take a picture) but then I succumbed to the teachings of… well whoever those wise, Zen, yoga-inclined folks are who make you stop and think “Do I really need this dress?  Do I even have an occasion to wear it?  No.  Probably not.”

So I put the dress back.

And bought three tops instead.

Totally Zen, right?

(And this, my friends, is why I should probably stop taking yoga.)

5 Responses to “Why I Need to Stop Doing Yoga”

  1. Debbie

    Wait JUST a minute! This is JOMAR! And that dress was what, $10? I suggest you march right back over there and get it! Because now you will be thinking about how you didn’t get it and that thought will get in during your zen meditation time and we simply can’t have that… (See how this is working???)

    Reply
  2. Claudia

    Kat- you crack me up–btw I’ve been meaning to get to Jomar’s–I’ll bring some zen and you can help me find the bargains!

    Reply

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