When I was little, I was flexible. I used to fold myself into pretzel like shapes to watch TV. I would get in to little pissing contests with my 60 year old grandmother about who could do better back bends. I have been exposed to Yoga since I was a little kid. My favorite position, Plow.
The last time I did yoga was when I lived in NY and I would do it occasionally at the gym I belonged to. I weigh around 50-60 pounds more than I did then.
Today I had my first real yoga class in 8 years.
I can't do some poses right because my fat stomach gets in the way. I can't do some poses right because years of knitting and typing have caused a cyst in my wrist. I can't breath properly because I failed to realize that yoga is exercise and duh, I should use my inhaler. It was harder than I ever remember because, duh again, I'm trying to hold up and stretch out 60 more pounds of me.
It was emotional. I was happy it was dark because it was at work, and the last thing I need is the app guys I work with seeing me cry because I can't do a fucking downward facing dog.
I'm going back and doing it again next Friday, and for the next five or so Fridays. I will get better, and I've got the Biggest Loser weight loss yoga to help me get better with my poses in a well lit environment where I can pause and make sure I get it right.
It would have been a lot worse if it wasn't for how well my clothes are fitting me.