my real parents were yogis.

25 mentre 25, item 16: take a yoga or kickboxing class.

Attempt #1: yesterday.

So I've always known I'm the least limber person in the room. Doesn't matter what room. There was a brief period where I attended PiYo on a regular basis, back when I was dating a guy who was all about nutrition and fitness. He also routinely told me to push back my cuticles. It was around then I started thinking maybe we weren't a good fit; hell, I didn't even know what a cuticle was.

It was inevitable that each week, he'd get hit on by someone - and really, who could blame 'em. The man was in perfect health and with a body to die for, I'm sure half the women in the class secretly hoped he would scoot to the front so they had something to look at other than the annoyingly zen instructor. All that to say - I actually really enjoyed PiYo, even more for its awesome name. Then Mr Perfect and I broke up, and I surrendered the gym membership mostly because it had his name on it. And I didn't really mind.

Robin works at the Y and invited me to a Sunday evening class, so I wiggled into my yoga pants, left pretense at home and jumped on the bandwagon. My inordinate self-confidence comes in real handy for times like these, surrounded by spandex and arms that are actually toned. The trick is to remind myself why everyone else looks so good - so I focus on the college students. They're 20 years old, hello. College is like, the freebie of the fitness world. 

Of course, there are a few exceptions. Like the gal next to me who, when we moved into a forward lunge, lent a sympathetic ear to my complaint that normally this kind of thing would be a total breeze, were not my stomach in the way. She was all IT'S OKAY, WE CAN COMPARE, except I happen to have known her for the last seven years, including that time she popped out two kids.

And then there's my roommate who (second only to myself) is God's gift to the athletically-inept, in the sense that she wouldn't be caught dead taking herself too seriously. The instructor last night leaned more towards the search-within-yourself-and-remember-your-yoga-is-YOUR-yoga school of thought, which is a little schmaltzy but whatever. To my credit, I wasn't too much of a distraction until she started walking around saying things like THERE IS NO COMPETITION HERE... NO JUDGMENT...  and right then and there, I gave mental props to my parents for never pushing me into the things I didn't want to do. In fact, I never felt judged until I moved in with Robin...so I was all DID YOU HEAR THAT? I'M MAKING NEW HOUSE RULES and she came back with WELL MY YOGA IS MY YOGA, BITCHES!

I'm not too sore, which must mean I was doing something wrong. I am determined to touch my toes when all is said and done. For me, this would be an accomplishment. I'm the reason they say things like LISTEN TO YOUR BODY and DON'T FORCE IT. Why do you think I have such a healthy sense of humor, if not for laughing at myself and others. You should try it sometime. Robin has a habit of comparing people to animals, when it comes to resemblance. We have a friend who looks like a cricket, it's really quite accurate. So before class, as I was consoling myself for looking like a beached whale, she said DON'T LOOK NOW, BUT THERE'S A LIZARD BEHIND YOU.

He totally was, too.

I can't wait to go back and meet more new people. I'm going to have so many friends by the time this is all over.

The official 25 mentre 25 list can be found here. Godspeed.