Shakira's hips may not lie, but they sure are expressive. Mine seem to be as well, and had no problem openly communicating their frustration with me after far too many hip openers in yoga classes over the past month. Yet scream as they occasionally do after class, I just ignore them with a reminder of how good it is to be open.
I love me some good hip-opening yoga postures, and I love sweating like a pig while pretzeling myself into them. Generally, yoga classes in rooms at temperatures less than 100 degrees just don't do much for me mentally or physically, hence my confusion at the transformative powers of the basic vinyasa session I attended last night. I laid down my mat as some sort of strange mutant combination of Scrooge and Eeyore, feeling both depressed and misanthropic and ready to find a puppy to kick, and rolled it up at the end of class as one of those over-optimistic people who is borderline obnoxious because of their excessive zeal for life. I simply cannot pinpoint any justification for this mental change. Did I sweat out any stress-inducing toxins? No, I barely sweat during class. Was my ability to shed away stress and tension amplified at all? Also no, at least not perceptibly so.
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| Before yoga, I was ready to kick Patches here in the face (Photo: http://images5.fanpop.com/image/photos/31100000/so-cute-puppy-the-puppy-club-31132519-1600-1200.jpg) |
My session today, though less shocking since it was a hot yoga class, was equally relaxing to the point where I likened my mentality to that of Peter's in Office Space after he goes through hypnosis in occupational therapy and afterwards doesn't give a hoot about anything to the point where he nonchalantly watches the therapist die before his eyes and then decides never to go to work again.
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| Me before class, but with a little more anger in my eyes (Photo: http://images4.static-bluray.com/reviews/1017_1.jpg) |
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| Me after (Photo: http://application.denofgeek.com/pics/film/lookbacks/office.space/01.jpg) |
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