Does a Body Good

The week of Thanksgiving {of all weeks} I joined the fitness center at my company and started taking yoga classes. I'd tried yoga three times before: the first time, at a rec center, I hated it; the second time, at a gym, I loved it; and the third time, at Lululemon, I was pretty lukewarm. Exercising isn't something that I've ever really enjoyed, and I've been on and off the fitness wagon more times than I care to recount. Witnessing the health issues that some of my loved ones have been through the past few years began to convince me that it was almost certainly time to grow up, suck it up, and start caring about my health.

Enter my friend Eric. The same new friend who's been introducing me to tons of new music and fun local restaurants had also convinced me to try his yoga class at work. He'd been devoutly attending for two and a half years and had a strong feeling that I'd love the instructor and become as addicted to the practice as he was. After one class, even though it was hard, even though every minute wasn't enjoyable, even though it seemed a little hippy-dippy for my taste, I joined the gym and committed to attending yoga classes.

Now, like I mentioned above, as I'm getting older {twenty-three next month, yeah, I know, stop judging me} I've been more conscious about my health. However, it wasn't exactly health that prompted me to join the gym. Our yoga instructor...she is amazing. While I'm not sure of her exact age, I do know that she's in her seventies and looks not a day beyond fifty-eight. She has so much energy, too, and just sort of radiates youth. This woman is five times as flexible as I am and over three times my age- what gives? Vanity led me to start practicing yoga, because yoga apparently has magical youth-giving properties, AND I don't even have to pat it on under my eyes twice a day...score!

It feels a little silly, but yes, something kind of shallow led me to yoga class. So much more is keeping me there, though. Within two weeks, I felt {and saw} my body grow stronger. I'm not naturally very muscular or strong in stature, so it doesn't take much to bring me up from my base line, but the results were still pretty incredible to me. After just a few classes, I was able to improve my strength and stability in the poses by so much. For a results-oriented human like me, this was so motivating and kept me going back. I love the endorphin rush I get after a class. I love how challenging yoga is without being physically hard on my body. I love how my natural flexibility is an asset to me. I love practicing with my friends.

I love, love, love my instructor.

So, I'm getting stronger, I'm feeling better, I'm proud of myself, and I'm convinced that yoga is the fountain of youth, but there's something that two months of practicing yoga a few times a week has given me that I never really thought I'd have: body confidence.

I've always struggled with liking the way that my body looks, something I think few members of the female race can say they've never given a thought to. I can remember "dieting" and begging my mom for a padded bra at ten years old. I guess I didn't realize that all children basically have the same bodies at that age- some a little more, some a little less. I wasted so many hours fervently wishing that my body would hurry up and grow up already, grow up into the beautiful young woman I knew I was destined to become. My pudgy thighs would thin out, my boobs would come into existence, and my skin would make porcelain look like crap. Naivety at its finest.

Now, I've never been what any reasonable human being would consider overweight, and I don't think I harbor too much extra disdain toward my body beyond the general discontent that I think a lot of women have for theirs {do you have that, too? is it just me?}. I hear this discontent get blamed a lot on society/the media, and maybe that's often the case but, for me, mostly, it's just me applying my same-old perfectionism and controlling nature to the one thing I'd most like to control into perfection: myself.

How has yoga altered this {maybe sorta destructive} thinking? My body is bad ass in yoga class.

That's kinda all there is to it. Yeah, my arms are more toned and I can see the beginnings of some abs, but really? It's how freaking sweet I feel when I'm upside down with my ponytail grazing the shiny wood floor and my clasped hands hanging toward my head. I am so dang proud of my silly old body when it can finally do something that I was trying my hardest at in the last few classes. It's {I'm?} stronger and better than I thought, and I'm so glad that yoga taught me that.

Namaste, indeed.