Dearest Newly Discovered Yoga Enthusiast Mother,
Your new love of yoga is nothing but befuddling as our family is less flexible than a petrified rock. That’s right, there are rocks that are more flexible than us. I added the word petrified to get across the redundancy. You can’t even cross your legs. So although I’m befuddled I applaud at your desire to increase your flexibility. You do those 3 legged downward dogs of death.
My enthusiasm lessens when you masterfully cajole me into accompanying you.
You’ll be upset that I used the word cajole because you’d like to think that I went willing. And I did go willingly. You didn’t actively force me out the door or threaten to withhold laundry services. I put on my own baggy t-shirt and running pants and waltzed out the door after you.
But you should know mother, that you have a magical secret power. You say things in such a way that I feel like I must do the thing even though I don’t want to do the thing. It’s magical. I think it’s a mom thing.
But I went. The crowd was mostly 40+ so simply by being under 25 I looked really really flexible. So thanks for the ego boost.
Also I discovered that my hips/waist are not flexible. At all. Touch my chest to my thigh? Hahahahaha how about stomach to thigh? I can do that. Stop telling me to be a hinge yoga instructor lady. I have no idea what that means. I AM NOT A HINGE. I DO NOT BEND LIKE THAT.
But I suppose it was good for me. I didn’t hate it either. I would go again. Whether I would pay to go again is a different story. Free, certainly. Pay, I keep weighing the cost against comic books and cosplay supplies. We’ll see.
But thanks for the exercise anyway. Although I’m not sure what she did to my tailbone. It’s twitching.