I just got back from my first ever official yoga class. It was really really hard. Surprisingly hard. But kind of a good hard, you know? I don't know if yoga is technically for fatties, and considering as how I was definitely the biggest person in the room, I don't know if I'll ever be any good at it.
My yoga instructor is seriously cute. She has one of those perfect bodies that yoga pants are made for. And she does moves that I've only ever done on accident. Right foot red? What? When did this turn into a sadistic game of Twister? I hate her.
No, not really. She's actually a very sweet and nice person and it would be impossible not to like her. Well, except maybe when she says to hold that pose just a little bit longer.
But I'm doing it. Maybe I can't lift my leg as high as some of the other ladies or hold it steady for quite as long, but it's a start. And I like the way I feel afterwards. It is a surprisingly thorough workout. I was amazed at how much I actually sweated. I thought yoga was all about the stretching and the breathing and the whatnot. And it is, but it's also about flexibility and muscle control. My shoulders, hamstrings, and lower back are especially appreciative of this.
I guess I'll be practicing on my own this weekend. I don't want to be the doof who falls flat on her face during Downward Facing Dog. Besides, anything that will make my booty look like the instructor's I am all for.
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