Downward Spiral Dog

Justin and I have been doing yoga once a week on Wednesday nights.
Or "Tapioca" as Chloe calls it.

I told her the "tapioca" is what Mommy's trying to get rid of....

I've just been realizing lately that though my heart and body are there for the very truest of reasons, I don't think I'll ever be one of those people who are able to quiet their mind and focus on things like
"imagining their butt has roots and their back is the stalk" and all that jazz.

It might be partially due to the fact that every Wednesday we come screeching into the gym parking lot with 2 minutes to spare.
Two minutes that we spend and then exceed with the 6 minute daycare check in procedure.
We grow more and more frazzled as we put the girls' numbers on them and take off their shoes and sign our names and show our i.d.s and make sure AGAIN that Tessa isn't trying on other kids' shoes.

Racing to do yoga is actually quite contradictory.

We try to hold our breath as we unroll our mats in the room full of already seated, closed-eyed Zen-ians. The music is quiet. All you can hear is breathing, and the sound of our shoes being flung off.

I always use that closed-eye time as a chance to size up the room.

Oh good.
There's an 80 year old man with giant knobby arthritis hands next to me.
Surely he won't show me up, Right?
Oh good.
The girl who can wrap herself in a spiral thrice over is across the room.
Now I don't have to feel like the yoga version of the evolutionary chart compared to her.

That's me on the left.

Oh good.
The mirror is mostly blocked from view.

The teacher's voice is calming enough. The music is nice. I like how she tells us to "make the best of what you've got." Something I do in my every day life.

But for the life of me, I cannot focus on what I'm sure I'm supposed to focus on.

While she's telling us to bend "one........vertibrate........at..........a........time......slowly", I'm panicking thinking surely I just did at LEAST two vertebrates as a SET that time.
Do I need to go back? Do I need to start over?

When she tells me to bend to the ground and let my head and arms hang for a nice stretch, I'm thinking, "Jeez. I really need a pedicure. How does skin even DO that?"

As we fold into downward dog, I contemplate our choice for Mexican food every single Wednesday.

Yes,
it's quick and Wednesdays are traditionally hectic, but a cup of black beans does not lend itself well to stretches designed to "ring out inner organs."

I'm sure I'm not alone.
I look at Justin and catch him bug eyed with his gaze transfixed on the armpit of the woman next to him. Or is it a beard? Hard to tell when you're in some of those positions...

I think about why it is that there is ALWAYS one girl in every yoga class who was practically BORN in the bridge position. She probably crab crawls herself to work that way every day with a smile on her face.
She ALWAYS has dark beautifully curly hair. She ALWAYS looks great without makeup. She ALWAYS has flowy, "I live for yoga and eat only organic vegan foods" type clothes.
I'm quite sure she probably drives a Subaru.
No matter what class. No matter what gym. That girl is always there.

I think about how funny it is that I once saw our instructor on a smoke break.

I wonder the name of the CD we're listening to, because I really like relaxing music at bed time and I'm always down for a good suggestion....

I think about how I wish Justin had bought me a non-primary colored yoga mat, because I'm really more of an orange or a magenta girl, then I think about how I shouldn't send him shopping alone.

Then I categorize all the odd things he's bought when he's ON his own.

I think about what other people are thinking about.

Then I think that I need to focus.
Maybe looking in the mirror will help focus me.
Wrong.

Now I'm thinking that it's weird that my hair swoops to the left on both sides like a breeze is perpetually blowing on me.

I think about how I wish my tank top were longer.

I wonder what that stain is, or is it sweat, and if it is, why would I sweat there?

I think about plucking my eyebrows.

I think about plucking the INSTRUCTOR'S eyebrows. (And believe me, she needs it.)

I think about the time Justin agreed to let me try plucking his eyebrows and how it ended in the fight.

I think about how we were watching L.A. Ink, then.

Now I think about tattoos and I wonder when that show will be back on then I wonder how Sandra Bullock feels about her ex marrying Kat and then I think about adopted babies and that Sandra looks good in white. Then I think about how I can't wear white because we're always eating Mexican food and on and on and on.

Then I look at the clock and it's only been 16 minutes.

The good thing is that by the end of the hour, I have literally run through every conceivable thought process a human mind can think. Every category. Every scenario.
By the end of it, I'm empty of anything new under the sun.

Maybe that's the whole point, come to think of it.
I end up relaxed from the exercise and almost brain dead from the mind vomit.

I leave feeling like a cave woman.

"I Kerri. Tapioca good."