In an effort to rejig my mind, I have decided to add yoga to my weekly routine. In doing so, I have decided that if I ever get a free pass on murdering someone, it will be my yoga instructor. 15 minutes into the 35 minute yoga session, I decided that she needed to die…a horrible death. Remember when I said sometimes I get the urge to shank people when they are spewing positivity at me when I am just not having it? Well, this is a prime example of that. I know that one day, when my ass is toned and my arms are flawless, I will grow to love her, but right now, she is causing a burning sensation in my entire body that should be reserved strictly for STD outbreaks. At what point does yoga become relaxing? I thought that I was going to get to sit cross-legged, take some deep breaths and wake up the next day with Beyonce’s body. All I have are a pair of trembling legs and a large desire for a chocolate bar. I also came to the realization that I have the flexibility of a 80-year old. The ability to touch your toes DOES NOT mean you are flexible. Yoga will teach you that. Yoga will also teach you that remembering to breath while you are tucking and pushing and holding becomes next to impossible at times. Yoga reduces you to a bumbling 4-year old but with worse posture and less flexibility. I will say that the stretching aspect has made my back feel fantastic. I have a tendency to clench my jaw and tighten up my entire body while stressed or concentrating, so this stretch almost mimicked how I feel after a massage (once the desire to commit murder had subsided).
I am not going to give up on this yoga thing though. I am determined to walk into that class one day and not hide myself away in the back of the class with the nickname “Shakes” (as I am sure the others are calling me). Nicole:1 – Yoga:0 (one day).
On a more serious note, today is the 1-year anniversary of my Grandpa’s death. I don’t think a week goes by where I don’t think of him and I wish more than anything that he was still around. I don’t mean to play favourites, but he was my favourite grandparent (so I guess I totally do mean to play favourites). I wanted him to be there for when I got married and when I had kids. I wanted them to know their awesome great-grandfather. Unfortunately, that was not part of the plan (and let’s be honest – at this rate, he would have been achieving “World’s oldest man” consecutively with my marriage). I can only hope that he is out there somewhere, enjoying a scotch, watching Wheel of Fortune and taking some time in between to watch over me.