Dear friends, family, that person in the waiting room, and the trainer at the gym whose advice I didn’t ask for:
I understand that you’re all coming from a good place. You hear me voicing my stress and anxiety, lamenting my expanding waistline and nagging lower back pain, and you genuinely want to help. Whether you’re tired of my complaints or truly want me to feel better, your suggestions keep coming. Phrases like, “You should really try yoga,” or “This will help you feel better,” are thrown around like confetti.
While I appreciate the concern—and you might even be right—it’s time for you to zip it about yoga. Because if I hear one more suggestion to roll out a mat, my chakras might just explode, and I’ll have to kick your beloved vinyasa-loving behind.
Let’s be real. I’ve given yoga a fair shot. I detest it. So please stop insisting that yoga is the magic cure for all my woes.
Sure, I own a ridiculous number of yoga pants. They’re not exclusive to yoga, though. They work perfectly for leaping over Lego landmines in the living room and making my stealthy escape from a toddler’s room after a long day. And let’s face it, stretchy pants have been scientifically proven to make you feel taller and slimmer. #AlternativeFacts
I know what you’re thinking: I just haven’t found the right class, the right instructor, or the right type of yoga. Nowadays, there’s a flavor for every taste—mommy yoga, beer yoga, and even goat yoga (yes, you heard that right). Because who doesn’t want to attempt downward dog with a baby goat prancing around? No thanks, I’ll pass on that and keep my goats to myself.
As for Bikram yoga? Count me out. I don’t need to endure a sauna packed with sweaty strangers while I try to twist myself into a pretzel. Night sweats are already a struggle.
Everywhere I turn, someone is preaching the benefits of yoga. My husband insists that the pigeon pose will fix my aching hip, while my friend Lisa swears that yogalates will give me the body of a swimsuit model. Random strangers keep insisting that yoga is the antidote to the chaos of the world.
I appreciate the yoga-loving advice, but it’s time for you to stop lecturing me about it.
I get it—yoga is supposed to be the answer to life’s problems. I know it’s reputed to relieve stress, enhance flexibility, and tone muscles. I’ve heard about the blissful afterglow that supposedly rivals an intimate experience. (No thanks!) You say the slow breathing will transport me to some enlightened state where my worries evaporate. But honestly? I’d rather vent my stress through a good run or mindlessly catch up on gossip while I’m on the elliptical.
I understand that yoga is a popular solution for many, and I genuinely appreciate your well-meaning advice. But if you mention it one more time, my frustration might just flow over into your peaceful space.
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In summary, yoga might be beloved by many, but it’s simply not for me. I’ll stick to what makes me feel good and leave the yoga mats to those who enjoy them.