Yoga

I like yoga. I'm not claiming to be a yogi master or anything, but I really enjoy how I feel during and after. My body doesn't reject it like it does running (I can run 1 mile straight through! Go me!). I used to go to yoga classes with my mom. And we would almost walk out when we saw that that one guy was subbing. Yeah, that guy with the basketball shorts and the church socks. Because it was offensive to us. Offensive!

He loved to poke fun at yoga ('he' being husband, not church socks guy). He'd lay (or is it lie?) on the ground and close his eyes. "Shhh, I'm doing yoga," he would say. Well, last week he finally had his first go at actually doing it.

The minute he ('he' being Rodney Yee this time) started talking, he (husband) started giggling like a schoolgirl. And that was unacceptable because guess what? It is really hard to focus your breathing and integrate your body and mind when the person 3 feet away from you is doing the exact opposite.

"I'm going to have to excuse you from this activity."

"Look at him! Listen to his voice!"

"I happen to enjoy it. If you can't pull yourself together, you're going to have to leave the room."

So I stopped and restarted and next thing I know he's breathing through his nose and going deeper into chair pose and giving speeches about how with yoga you really get out what you put in. Go figure.

Now, I don't really understand how to do hashtags or even the point of them, but I think it'd go something like this: #proudwife.

Namaste.