Dear friends, family, that random person in the waiting area, and my personal trainer whose unsolicited advice I didn’t ask for:
I understand that you all have good intentions. You want to help me tackle the stress and anxiety I often talk about, along with my growing belly and nagging back pain. You hear my complaints and feel compelled to offer solutions. Phrases like, “You know what could really help?” and “You should definitely try…” come flying my way.
While I appreciate your concern — and let’s face it, you might even be right — I need you to back off. If you keep pushing yoga on me, I might just explode in a fit of frustration, and I’m not sure anyone wants to see that.
I’ve given it a shot. I really can’t stand it. So please, stop suggesting that yoga is the miracle cure for everything.
Yes, I own about 17 pairs of yoga pants, but they are not reserved for yoga. They come in handy for navigating through Lego minefields in my living room or for sneaking out of my toddler’s room once they finally drift off to sleep. And let’s be real: it’s scientifically backed that yoga pants, along with any stretchy bottoms with a comfy waistband, can magically make you look a couple of inches taller and 10 pounds lighter. #AlternativeFacts
I know what you’re thinking: I just haven’t found the right class or instructor, or maybe I haven’t explored the right style of yoga. Nowadays, there’s a type for everyone. From breastfeeding-mom yoga to beer yoga and even goat yoga — yes, that’s a thing with a 900-person waiting list — it seems like there’s a new trend every day. No, thanks. I’ll pass on the baby goats prancing around while I try to hold a pose.
As for Bikram yoga? I’ll skip the sweat-soaked, sauna-like environment filled with 50 strangers. I already experience night sweats, and I don’t need to add the smell of a crowded studio to that list.
Everywhere I turn, someone insists that yoga is the answer. My partner swears that the pigeon pose will alleviate my hip pain. My best friend claims that yogalates will give me the physique of a swimsuit model. A stranger in the waiting room insists yoga will help me escape the chaos of the world around us.
Thank you for your suggestions, but I need you to stop with the yoga recommendations.
I get it — yoga is hailed as a cure-all. I know it has benefits for stress relief, flexibility, and building muscle tone. I’ve heard about the post-yoga glow that can rival an intimate moment (uh, no thank you?). You tell me that deep breathing will transport me to another realm where my spirit will be rejuvenated. Or maybe I’ll just gain a bit of flexibility and muscle while unwinding after a hectic day filled with toddler tantrums.
That may all be true, but honestly, I’d rather tackle my stress by going for a jog or walking while letting the sweat pour down my face. Or perhaps I’d prefer to catch up on Us Weekly while pedaling nowhere on the elliptical machine. You do your thing; I’ll do mine, okay?
I understand that yoga is your life’s answer. I’m grateful for your kundalini-fueled suggestions. But seriously, if one more person tells me to do yoga, I might just lose it.
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In summary, while yoga may be a beloved practice for many, it’s just not for me. I appreciate the suggestions, but I’ll stick to what works for my own stress relief and fitness routine.