the other day, while on a walk with the wonderful Allison, she brought up an interesting question: what should she do for her Birthday Commitment. hm. Birthday Commitment? i dunno what that is, but it sounds interesting.
each year, for her birthday, Allison finds something that she wants to do for herself. be it a challenge, or learning something new, or doing something that she’s always wanted to do.
this sounds really interesting indeed.
so this got me to thinking…with July 27th just around the corner, what would i do for my Birthday Commitment? what is something that i’ve wanted to do for myself that i’ve never made the time for? after about 5 minutes of thinking, i knew the answer:
i used to go a couple of times a week years & years ago. and i loved it. it was such a good workout, detox, & mental health break. this would be perfect! on soooo many levels! i logged some time on the interwebs & found a place that does hot yoga…added bonus, it was right down the street from my house! yes! this is the PERFECT idea!!
my plan was to check the place out on my day off, and if i liked it then i would get one of the packages that they offer. i borrowed a yoga mat & hand towel. and at 8am, i pealed myself out of bed & threw on some clothes to head up to the studio. i pulled into the parking lot & surveyed my surroundings.
and i froze. standing outside the door chatting were 3 girls. i say girls, because they were clearly younger than me (and since when did i start noticing people’s age?) they were tall. they were slender. they had awesome yoga outfits paired with elaborate bags specifically designed for their yoga mats. they probably have been going to 5 classes a week for the past 3 years.
i looked down at myself.
i am short. i am not slender. my outfit was clearly not made specifically for yoga. there wasn’t an “om” logo anywhere in sight and the material was far from organic. i had an assortment of borrowed items. and i haven’t taken a class in 7 years. panic. pure panic.
i whipped my car out of the parking lot. what the hell was i thinking? how could i pretend that i have enough gusto to just waltz into the great yoga unknown all by myself & find inner peace and a rewarding workout? seriously??
i was instantly transported back to the 5th grade, when i started a new school. i remember showing up to the 1st day of class in my knee-length, hand-me-down plaid skirt and my all-white sneakers, all excited to meet new people. i walked into the hallway and there was a group of girls gathered together by the lockers. they had doc martens. their skirts were rolled up to show off the bottoms of their colorful boxer shorts. while my mom said i looked “cute” before i went to school, their older sisters said that they looked “bitchin”. i was mortified. the second i got back from school i cried & begged my mom to take me shoe shopping.
compared to them, i looked like the egg carton dinosaur i made in 3rd grade art class.
and here i was, almost 29 years old. and i felt like an egg carton dinosaur next to these yoga goddesses. ugh.
about halfway back to my house, once i got my heart rate to slow down & my face wasn’t quite the shade of a tomato, i realized: i am being so dumb. who gives a crap about what i’m wearing or how skilled i am at yoga? i’m going there to learn. i’m going there to improve myself. i’m going there to do something for me…and i have to start somewhere. i couldn’t make this class (it had already started, & i couldn’t walk in late). but there’s a class on sunday afternoon and i would be there. motley yoga gear and all.
sunday i will ignore all of my dumb insecurities and remember that it’s not about having the coolest outfit or perfectly mastering the different poses. i have to have a beginning point, even if it’s as an egg carton dinosaur doing Downward Facing Dog.