An open letter to the aging woman in my 12:30pm yoga class

To the aging woman desperately clinging to her youth in my 12:30pm yoga class on Monday at the Y:

You and I, we need to talk. For reals.

First of all, you have obviously been doing yoga for a while. Kudos to you – that’s great. Beyond that, though, my appreciation for your existence generally ends and it’s time to get down to the brass tacks of why you offend me as a human being.

I understand that yoga clothes are meant to be tighter so you are not distracted by clothes falling or having to pull the hem of your shirt down in the middle of a pose. However, your clothes were tight 4 sizes ago. It’s time to be real with your aging body and get some clothes that actually cover your growing torso.

This may come as a shock to you, but you are not a yoga instructor. It is not up to you to correct your fellow students and neighbors. Maybe they have an injury. Maybe the actual yoga instructor can help if necessary. Maybe they’re pregnant and can’t do deep twists and have to go the opposite way and don’t feel obliged to tell you that they’re pregnant every time they’re doing a twist the opposite way of everyone else. Maybe they don’t feel they want to tell you they’re pregnant before they tell their extended family but because of your complete insistence on “helping” feel forced to finally have to tell you in the middle of a pose as you try to “correct” them. It’s awkward. Stop it.

Muttering to yourself in the middle of yoga is generally looked down upon and distracting. Not everyone can do advanced balancing poses, and that is fine. Your flailing about trying to prove you can do them and grunting makes me want to pick up my mat and leave.

It is not up to you to say “namaste” the loudest of everyone in the class to prove that you know to do that. We all know to say namaste at the end. Also, you don’t have to stay after everyone pointing your hands in prayer saying “namaste” loudly to each person. I promise.

So here’s what you do. Calm yourself. Go get some inner peace and head over to the store, buy some clothes that fit, and take your yoga practice inwards. I bet eventually you might even flail yourself into that headstand you’re so desperate to prove you can do.

Namaste, beyotch.


Motherhood What.

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