I went to yoga tonight. The only other time I’ve taken yoga was during my last trimester of pregnancy, when I weighed 200 pounds and had a face the size of Texas. I did the yoga then because I thought I should be mindful of my growing self and my correspondingly gigantic baby.
Overall, the prenatal yoga was a good idea, even though my obsession with my potential foot odor and my concentrated attention to my hideously stretch-marked hips and thighs sometimes got in the way of “my practice.”
Tonight was good, too. If possible, I’d like to do more yoga; but I don’t think I have enough time.
2 comments:
To this same end - I currently have an issue of Yoga Journal in my bathroom. I read somewhere that Goldie Hawn meditates in the bathroom because it's the only time she has any privacy.
I've found that my yoga class is generally so hard for me that all I think about the entire time is how hard the class is for me. That's as close to a meditative existence as I'm going to get.
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