I think that maybe I should be annoyed about this? But I’m not sure. I’m mostly sort of disconcerted. Like, the phrase “chubb-rub free” is annoying, but not necessarily in a feminist way, just in a rational-person-way. But using “100% woman” as a selling point for your workout wear? I think that’s annoying specifically as a girl. And what about the fact that they have a shirt called “courage?” I mean, that’s annoying to runners as a group, right? It’s, you know, runnist, or something. And the fact that they link to a geocities site to explain who Atlanta was? I dunno. I’m pretty sure I’m annoyed about something, I just don’t know exactly what.
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Oh! I forgot a story!
So the other day I was walking home after running in Central Park, and a guy was walking past me in the opposite direction, and he offered up a really funny cat-call. He said, “Keeping in shape? That’s gooo-oood.” But he totally said it in this kind of hilarious and dirty way. So I was all like, well, that guy is either a very friendly health enthusiast, or I just received my third-favorite cat-call ever!
Then I got home and looked at my hair. Turns out, he was just a really friendly health enthusiast.
Incidentally, the top two cat-calls:
2. I’m walking in Times Square. A handsome young gay-looking man in fabulous sunglasses tells me as I walk past, “Damn, you so beautiful, you must be French.”
and
1. I’m walking in my own neighborhood, at like 8am, toward the subway to go to work. A drunk and/or homeless man is standing on the sidewalk in front of me, messily eating what might be some kind of pastry from a large paper sack in both of his hands. He lifts his head from a bite and sees me. Mouth full, he holds the half-eaten thing out to me with both hands and offers it up to me and says, “Urmmf?” (Okay, not quite a cat-call, but I’m nearly certain he was hitting on me.)
Things My Yoga Instructor Said Tonight:
(Incidentally, tonight’s edition of TMYIST is brought to you by Kelly, my BRAND NEW yoga instructor, as I have now moved up a level! I’m a green belt! Not like it’s a competition or anything, and not like I’m looking at other people or comparing myself to anyone, especially not the giant portion of the class who was not stacking their joints properly or, like, at ALL, even though I was supposed to be the new one, like, SERIOUSLY.)
So we were about to try to do a headstand-y inversion type thing. She says:
“Contraindicators would be any problems with your wrists, or maybe if your shoulders are a little funky tonight, or if you’re in the first few days of your period. Scientifically, nothing bad would really happen. But your body has all this beautiful energy flowing through it in one direction right now – you don’t really want to go and flip that energy upside down or anything.”
Things my yoga instructor said tonight:
“Breathe into the right side of your neck and the left side of your body.”
“Engage your trunk.”
“Engage your root.”
“Sacrum.”
“There’s a part of every person that eats the fruit, and there’s a part that watches the…person that…eats the…fruit.”
Things she meant:
“I have little to no understanding of basic human biology.”
“Suck in that beer gut, fatties!”
“Suck in that cooter, slut!”
“Hey, look, I just made up another nonsense word, like I did before with ’sternum.’”
“Oh, man, I’m so high right now.”
Dear yoga instructors:
First of all, let’s clear this up: I know that the technical term is “yogi.” I will not being using that term.
So now that that’s out of the way, here’s what I brought you in here for today: you say some gay-ass shit.
Now don’t get me wrong. I like the yogaz. Lunges are nice. Backbends are super. Love the Virabhadrasana II – great asana you got there. But seriously, yo. You say some gay ass-shit.
First of all, you come up with some gay-ass names for parts of my body. “Sitting bones?” “Hip crease?” “Inseam line?” “Padding?” These are either childish or redundant or, I don’t know, just silly. Also, and maybe this one is my fault, but “sternum.” I don’t know what my sternum is. There. I said it. Is it my chest? My belly? My lower back? I really have no idea.
Second of all, you give some gay-ass instructions. I’m not even talking about the whole “acknowledge your pelvis” debacle. I mean things like “move your tailbone and your pubic bone toward each other.” You know what? Can’t do that. They’re BONES. Don’t move independantly. “Lengthen your femurs.” Again: bones. Don’t lengthen on command like that so much. “Put your hand on your sternum.” Dear lord, woman, WHERE IS THAT??
And I know, I know, what I want out of yoga is a Western bastardization. And that’s why I’m willing to over look all the stupid glowing balls of light you want me to imagine in the center of my head, and all the times you tell me to move the energy from one side of my nose to the other, and that whole “rubbing the popped atoms into my skin” thing. But “om”ing? Fucking hate it, dude. And so does everyone else! That’s why NO ONE DOES IT WITH YOU. So it forces me, out of neurotic Midwester politeness, to actually do it, rather than just fake it, and do it extra-loud, and I’m sure it just encorages you, and damnit I have actual moral/religious/political reasons for not “om”ing, as opposed to these other bastards who are just shy or lazy, but I’m doing it, and I’m doing it for YOU. So…stop…doing it. Because I don’t want to do it anymore.
On the other hand, I really think my down dog improved tonight.
Love,
Jessica
She wonders where his hand is.
He knows. He likes to think about it. He is thinking about it right now. He is thinking hard.
I wanted to say something funny about this lady, too, but couldn’t think of anything. :(
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