Recently, a friend said to me she would come back to yoga, but couldn’t because she had gained some weight.
Thank gawd for people with some self-insight!
Because that’s how we yogis roll. The other day a woman tried to pass as a size 2 so she could take one of my classes. She was very clearly a size 4, and had less than a 1" thigh gap. The nerve of some people. I sent her on her way and reminded her, quietly firmly, that yoga is ONLY for willowy tall women with long flowing hair, big boobs (that do not need any form of support other than a skin-tight Lululemon top), rock-hard abs, and tasteful Ohm tattoos on their perfectly pedicured feet. Also, if you show up in an outfit that cost less than $400 you’ll either have to leave or buy a new (size 00/xs – size2/xl) more yoga-appropriate outfit from our retail racks.
Oh, and if you can’t already DO every pose perfectly, do not even drive by the studio, nobody has time for students who are still actually learning how to do yoga. Honestly, I don’t know what people are thinking.
If you are anything above a size 2, large breasted 20 something who can already do absolutely every yoga pose perfectly, then go get yourself a DVD and practice yoga by yourself, preferably in a private room where no one can see you and be permanently scarred by your feeble attempts at yoga.
Also, if you
eat meat
eat gluten
consume dairy
have not been on a juice fast in the last 24hours
have body fat or a BMI over 12
do not own a juicer
do not make your own kombucha
do not have kale snacks in your Lulu bag
remember what refined sugar tastes like
use anything but essential oils for healthcare
do not have a profound connection with your chakras
are wearing anything other than Tom’s shoes or Uggs on your feet
can’t fluently speak, read and communicate in Sanskrit
cannot already wrap both ankles around your neck
engage in any behaviour that is 'unyogi' like
Then don’t even think about coming to my class, and for Ohm’s sake, pull yourself together and get ON it will you?
This group was one of my favourite groups ever to teach. They are The Dupage Derby Dames, a kick-butt roller derby team. Okay, so I might have bent a few rules by letting them practice yoga because I’m pretty certain the pizza they were going for after class broke just about every food consumption rule, and while there were plenty of tattoos, there wasn’t a single Ohm, also there were zero Lulu outfits in the room.
So why do we do this to ourselves?
I can’t do yoga because
I’m not flexible
I’m not in shape
I have nothing to wear
I don’t know any poses
I don’t know Sanskrit
I can’t stand to look at my ass/boobs/arms/thighs/shoulders/belly because they are not absolutely perfect, and I’m not stepping onto a yoga mat until they are
Disclaimer: Just in case you think, well, easy for HER to say, she already has great body/practice/kombucha habit. Yeah, about that. Okay, I do have a kombucha habit, but I also eat meat, gluten, dairy, love sugar, and have not done a juice cleanse or wear Lululemon exclusively. I also have all that body image self-talk – my butt is too jiggly, I limp and am officially physically disabled, my arms jiggle, my belly is round and soft with stretch marks. I'm also dangerously close to 60, an age when women should be wearing cat sweaters and staying home.
and yet, I still do yoga
Here’s the thing about yoga, to paraphrase Brian Kest, yoga doesn’t give one single fuck about anything I have mentioned here, or anything else you have rattling around in your brain as reasons why you can’t do yoga.
Yoga doesn’t care what your hair looks like. Yoga doesn’t care if you wear Lululemon or Spiritual Gangster. Yoga doesn’t care if you are vegetarian, if you eat meat or know what Kombucha is. Yoga doesn’t care when the last time you practiced was—yesterday, six months ago, never. Yoga doesn’t care what kind of mat you have, brand new or eating away at itself. Yoga doesn’t care if you show up cranky or exhausted. Yoga doesn’t care what religion you believe in. Yoga doesn’t care what colour your skin is or what gender you choose to love. Yoga doesn’t care if you wear mala beads. Yoga doesn’t care what the tag on the back of your pants says. Yoga doesn’t care if you don’t know what yoga means. Yoga doesn’t care how much money you have, what house you live in, what car you drive. Yoga doesn’t care if you are flexible. Yoga doesn’t care if you fall over in Trikonasana, or know what Trikonasana is Yoga doesn’t care if you fart during practice. Yoga doesn’t care if you ever make it into head stand. Yoga doesn’t care if you feel uncomfortable saying Namaste and Om. Yoga doesn’t care if you drink super food smoothies or drink coconut water. Yoga doesn’t care if choose the back corner or the front row of the room to practice. Yoga doesn’t care if you stay to meditate. Yoga doesn’t care if you can put your leg behind your head. Yoga doesn’t care if you know what Ujjayi breath is. Yoga doesn’t care if you smoke cigarettes, and drink whisky. Yoga doesn’t care if you need to leave class halfway through because you’re dehydrated and need to get water. Yoga doesn’t care if you have a man bun, or a bald head. Yoga doesn’t care if your monkey mind takes over. Yoga doesn’t care how old you are. Yoga doesn’t care if you juice cleanse, or intermittently fast. Yoga doesn’t care if you shake the entire 60 minutes. Yoga doesn’t care if you spend the entire class in child’s pose. Yoga doesn’t care what political party you vote for. Yoga doesn’t care if you are single or divorced. Yoga doesn’t care if you like Rumi. Yoga doesn’t care if you like your teacher. Yoga doesn’t care if you complete a 30 day challenge. Yoga doesn’t care what version of wheel you go up into. Yoga doesn’t care if you shop at whole foods. Yoga doesn’t care if you remember to shave your armpits.
How to Yoga, Satire © 2023 Ruth (Day) Elliott. All rights reserved. Feel free to share this content, but please provide proper attribution by including a link back to this post and giving credit to me.