If I had a dollar for every time a friend declared that yoga has changed their life, I might actually be able to afford to take a class. And, buy fancy schmancy yoga gear with a spa pedicure to boot. Don’t even get me started on the ridiculously high price of taking a Pilates reformer class.
Even if I win the lottery, my intense fear of flatulating during a Half Lord of the Fishes pose is enough to keep me out of the yoga studio. Though, my sister says everyone is so relaxed, no one notices if a fellow Yogi lets one slip. On the other hand, not being able to snicker at a fart in the middle of class is another strike against yoga culture.
The Last Pancake’s latest craze is trying to recruit me to join her in a hot yoga class. Flatulence fear aside, the cardiac risk factors of being in the elderly while stretching in a 100 degree hot box need to be considered. At $17.00 a class, I’ll turn the hot water up in my shower and stretch extra hard to grab my loofah for the same benefit at a lower price.
Remember, Lilias Yoga and You on PBS? The gal with the matching saggy body suit and Rumpelstiltskin braid? She didn’t have any fancy reformer machine or $100 dollar britches, and look how relaxed she was.
I’m not saying that I don’t believe in the benefits that yoga brings to the mind, body and soul. I’m just questioning why it is so expensive.
That’s why I prefer taking a walk with my dog to clear my mind and stretch my muscles.
Hitting the neighborhood sidewalks with man’s best friend is also more economical than paying to attend a yoga class. Take a few pals with you to get the added benefit of a therapy session, neighborhood gossip updates plus new ideas on what to cook for dinner that night. My muscles and spine get plenty of stretching when another dog comes into view as my dog takes the proverbial “don’t mess with us” lunge, or decides to suddenly plop down in the grass during a fast stride. What neighbor doesn’t feel good when they wave and get a “Top of the sh*t-bag to ya!” salute in return as they drive to work?
However, one benefit studio yoga has over dog walking is the use of cushioned mats. The other day I was walking with one of my gal pals, who also happens to be a yogi. As I was pontificating about the dislike for my new Bay City Rollers hairstyle, I bent over to pick up after my dog and I tripped over a divot in the sidewalk mid-scoop. I ended up in a Downward-Facing Dog poop pose while careening into the cement with only my palms and left forearm supporting the weight of my entire body.
As I was trying to catch my “hasma”, my “nada” keep saying, “sh*t”, “sh*t”, “sh*t” because I was literally wrestling with flying dog crap while trying to determine if I had any broken bones. It’s actually lucky that I ended up sitting in a Hero position instead of a Corpse pose. It’s also lucky that I ate a half-gallon of Edy’s 1/2 fat ice cream every night this summer to help build up my bone mass. My arm is still a little sore but I can’t tell if it’s from the tumble or just an old wound from carrying my Golden Girls purse on my arm.
Let’s just say, I am going to petition my homeowners association to pad the sidewalks in our neighborhood because dog walking is the new yoga – at least to this Duhkhass (that’s yoga for dumbass who is suffering from stubbornness).