Is It Yoga If I Wear Leggings While Hunching Over the Sink Eating a Donut?

Sometimes, in the morning, when I have nothing else to do, I squash my laziness just long enough to drag myself to yoga class.

During the 15-minute drive to the gym, I mentally morph into Schizophrenia Girl (Able to Talk Herself In and Out of Anything Multiple Times!): I should work out. I want to go home. But I’ll feel better if I go. Except I want to sit on the couch and enjoy a nutritious piece of fruit. I mean bacon. Yoga class will help me relax. Don’t you dare turn the car around and slither back into bed! What are you trying to do, brain? Test me?

Nothing against yoga, but sometimes I find it boring, like more boring than exposed brick. The thing is, after class, I’m always glad I went because I feel better - looser and relaxed. I also like the teacher. He explains breathing well without getting all yogi-master about it and constantly reminds us, “If it hurts, don’t do it.” I don’t like to deal with massive amounts of discomfort if I can help it, and that message reminds me to take things slowly and not feel like a dork when there’s something my stiff body can’t do.

We stake out our spots and lay down our mats. Class officially starts when the instructor tells us to “get into your most comfortable seated position. “ But how does that work without any bar stools around? Oh, wait. He meant to sit on the floor. I got it. The class sits and begins inhaling and exhaling loudly.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh on the inhale. Heeeeeeeeeeeeeee on the exhale. We sound like a room full of Darth Vadars.

After practicing breathing, we start with the poses. In the last class we did a pose I didn’t care for. I don’t remember what it was called, but it involved squatting.

Picture it: Twenty women bending deeply at the knees, feet flat with our butts sticking out and hovering close to the ground. Our hands are in prayer position, and we gently push our knees out with our elbows.

It was an unflattering position, and I shut my eyes as the instructor guided us through it. I am one of those students who never achieves that elusive moment of enlightenment or has zen yoga-like thoughts. Instead, when I opened one eye and scanned the room, I couldn’t help thinking, “GAH! We all look like we’re trying to take a.......”…well…you know.

It’s kind of hard to release the ego when you’re going out of your mind trying to stifle a giggle, you know?

We also do a lot of downward dogging. Did you know the downward dog pose is supposed to represent “a harmonious blend of strength and surrender?” Yeah, me either, but that makes perfect sense. Downward-facing dog has always been a shoulder-aching pose where I’m forced to reflect on how super-sized my thighs and ass look when I see them from upside down. Again, GAH!

Fifty minutes and several animal poses later; it’s time for the part I look forward to the most: savasana, where you lie on your mat, eyes closed in the dark, thinking peaceful thoughts while the instructor reads us inspirational quotes and eventually rings a bell signaling it’s time to wake and return to reality.

Ding! Ding!

I wiggle my toes and slowly lift my body from the floor. I roll up my mat, chat with a few classmates, and then head to my car. By the time I’m home I feel glad to have gone.

But why, oh, why is it so hard to remember that feeling of relaxation when I contemplate going to the next class later in the week? And why is half my brain on board with fewer cookies and more exercise while the other half of my brain is trying to tempt me into a slothful, processed meat-eating, sitting on my butt, television-watching lazy existence?

Lord, I don’t even know where to start with that, but perhaps we could begin with D*MN YOU, BRAIN.