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.
Love,
Aria
Five Minute Thanks 