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Posts Tagged ‘judgy wudgy was a bear’

As per my 27 list, I’ve been at the yoga studio a lot more often recently, and thus feel compelled to share some of my observations. Especially when I start to notice the same types of people over and over.

1) The Stereotype

Before I started doing yoga, I attributed it as a practice best left to hippies and crunchy-granola types. Not in a bad way, but in a I’m-too-Type-A-to-meditate kind of way. I’ve since realized that everyone has their own way of practicing – even us Type A-ers – but it still makes me giggle (on the inside) when I hear someone behind me talking about how they camped out at a Bob Dylan concert and it was so wonderful and soulful.

2) The Competitor

Yoga is not a competition. In fact, every instructor I’ve ever had emphasizes that it’s a personal practice, and that you should focus on what your body can do, not what everyone around you can do. The Competitor hears that and thinks, you clearly don’t know me and how I operate. I can say this because I fall squarely into this category. Sure, I want to focus on my own practice, but if the girl next to me is trying a bind, you bet your ass I’m going to give it a shot.

That is, until I wobble and fall. A Weeble, I am not.

3) The Underdressed Yogi

I suppose that if you’re comfortable, then it doesn’t count as underdressed. But when I look up from my downward dog and I’m staring directly at butt cheek, it’s a little disconcerting. And I find myself wishing that the UY would wear spandex that’s just a teensy bit longer.

Also disconcerting? When that spandex rides up in the front and you’re standing directly across from the UY. But there’s one in every class.

4) The Dude

No generalizations about guys that do yoga. Just an observation that I see a lot more gentlemen in my classes now than I did five years ago. I’m impressed. And also jealous when they’re far more flexible than I am.

5) The Picture-Perfect Yogi

The Picture-Perfect Yogi isn’t defined by how well he or she does yoga, but by how prepared they look for the class. That is to say, I’m not passing judgment on their practice, by any means. But there’s always one who is decked out head-to-toe in the latest yoga clothing (likely from lululemon*), with a brand new mat, and a perfect slip-proof towel to match. If the PPY is new to yoga, at least they look the part. If they’re seasoned and adept at the poses, then you can bet there’s a Competitor close by, eyeing not only the binds, but also the clothes.

Damn that PPY.

My observations are clearly colored by the fact that I am undoubtedly a Competitor (even as I know that that’s not what yoga is all about). But help me out – who have I left off the list? Or, if you’ve never been, who do you imagine I’ve left off?

*Again, no judgment. Just another minor case of jealousy, since I want everything in the store.

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When I write out my birthday lists, a year always seems like plenty of time to do everything I want to do.

Then there’s one month left before my birthday and half the list still unchecked, and I remember that I’m a born procrastinator.

This year is no different. I’m scrambling on some things (Duck Tour, DC United), and missed the window on others (Colorado visit, Phillies playoffs *tear*). But there are also a few that I’m not quite sure how to evaluate, because they’re actually ongoing projects. Like these two:

17) Be slow to judgment.

18) Let go of old grudges.

I’ll be honest, #17 could be going better. I still judge. But am I slower to judgment than I used to be? Does progress count? I’d like to think it does. And I generally feel better when I’m less judge-y.

(Although, as I wrote that I remembered an extremely cathartic bitch session with a classmate about the rest of our class…so maybe it’s too soon for progress.)

Letting go of old grudges has been slightly more successful. It’s still an ongoing process (and I’m excluding sports grudges because, well, I just am), but it’s been freeing. But again, is it truly something I can just cross off, dust off my hands, and say, done with that?

The concrete things on my list, those I can check off (or push to next year). But the attitude adjustments, well, maybe that’s just a whole separate life list.

And you know me, I love a good list.

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The first time I went to the Y, I remember looking at all the machines trying to decide which was for me. It appeared that most girls my age were either on the treadmill or the elliptical, and since there was no way I was going to run if I wasn’t being forced by the gym teacher, I hopped on the machine that vaguely reminded me of the old Nordic track that used to collect dust in our basement at home.

This is pretty easy, I thought. I must be a natural ellipti-cizer!

And so, over the next four years or so, on the very rare occasions that I went to the gym, I ellipticized. I would leave the gym barely sweating, and the only clue that I’d been working out was my clothes.

Then I became a runner.

I didn’t gain the freshman fifteen; I gained the sophomore twenty. I quickly realized that my sporadic elliptical trips just weren’t cutting it, so I started running. And the running, well, it turned me into a bit of a gym snob. After spending 40+ minutes on the treadmill, I would scoff (only in my head, I promise) at people on the elliptical.

You want a real workout you should try running. You’re barely doing anything over there! You’re not even sweating!

Fast forward to 2012, when I have nearly burnt myself out with running. The marathons were great last year, and I’m still signed up for some key races this year, but I just don’t have the drive to run every.single.day. So I had to come up with some alternatives.

On days I truly hate myself, I use the stairmaster. You sweat like crazy and your legs feel like jelly afterward. What’s not to love?

But on the other days, I need something else. So I returned to the elliptical.

In the past month I’ve probably ellipticized three to four times a week, and it only took the first time to realize that I’d been doing it wrong every time before that.

The elliptical is essentially a metaphor for life – you get out what you put in. You want it easy? That’s fine, hit that “quick start” button. You want a challenge? Go ahead and increase the resistance and maybe the incline, too. You want a little something extra? Try using the arms, or going in reverse for a few intervals.

Don’t worry if you stumble the first couple times you try. It happens.

But the workout is totally worth it.

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I’m going to tell you a little secret, just because it’s Friday. And you can judge me if you want. OR you can join me. Your choice.

But, you see, there’s this movie coming out. I’ve seen – and enjoyed – the first two of the series (I use that term loosely), though not in theaters. And I’ll go so far as to say that I even loved the first one.

And now, I sorta kinda really want to see the third. Plus, it’s in 3D!

Listen you guys, I’m a total sucker for these dance movies.

1) I love the music. It’s your standard pop/hip-hop/remix compilation that you’ll hear at any bar and it’s fun. I’m also about the farthest thing that you’ll get from a music snob, so take my opinion as you will.

2) I go to the movies to be entertained, and this dancing? It fits the bill. Trust me, I’m not watching for the complex story line, which, if I had to guess, would run something like: boy and girl meet; there’s an attraction; they hook up; something pulls them apart; dance brings them back together. But that’s just a guess.

3) Not only is the dancing fun to watch, but it makes me want to/think I can dance, too. In fact, if you see the movie with me, you’ll probably catch me chair-dancing. That includes, but isn’t limited to, some head bobs, shoulder rolls, general torso shaking, and probably some foot taps. Because, you know, I’ve just got so much rhythm coursing through my body.

I swear I’m 25.

But really, if any of these items make you want to see the movie (or, it just sounds appealing even without my carefully laid out points), please let me know. Partners in crime are always welcome.

It’s just too bad Channing Tatum won’t be in it this time.

Happy Friday!

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Last week before the wedding I treated myself to a manicure and pedicure. I’ve never been good at painting my own nails, and I wanted them to look nice for the event. Plus, to be fair, I didn’t want to have to deal with my own feet.

You see, running has wreaked havoc on my little footsies. I have constant calluses and blisters (probably from continuing to pick…at both), and at least two of my toenails are black and bruised at any given time. And I still have one that hasn’t grown back.

I know, I know. Rawr. Totally sexy.

What I *wish* my feet looked like on a regular basis. So very far off...

Anyway, whenever I get a pedicure, I always apologize to the pedicurist before she starts. We both have a little laugh, she assures me it’s not a big deal (probably a lie), and we spend the rest of the time gossiping and/or making small talk. That’s just how it works.

Except for this last time.

I would say something – my apology, a comment on the color, this, that, or the other thing – and my pedicurist would say nothing. She’d look at me, maybe acknowledge that I’d spoken with a movement of her head, and then look back down at my feet.

Now, I’ve had a pedicure or two in my day, and my pedicurists have ALWAYS been chatty. And I appreciate that. A little chatter passes the time, and doesn’t make me feel as awkward about someone being so intimate with all my missing toenails.

But this one? Nothing.

Don’t get me wrong, I still appreciated the pedicure, and I’ll probably even try the place again, but if I get the same girl I’ll definitely be grabbing a magazine.

Ladies – if you’re getting your nails done, do you prefer someone chatty? Or just to be left alone?

Gentlemen – Well, first things first, have you ever actually gotten either a manicure or a pedicure? And if not, what would convince you to do it? (It’s okay. This is a safe place.)

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Like most people, I have a number of pet peeves – all totally reasonable, of course. (For example, “stand right, walk left” is not a difficult concept. Though, the “stand left-ers” are probably the same ones who drive at 45 mph in the left lane, and *that* shouldn’t be hard to grasp either.) Whew, sorry. Where was I? Oh, yes – more likely than not, any witness of one (or more) of these pet peeves will probably result in a wee bit of judgment.

Unlike a lot of people, if I’m judging, you’ll probably know it. My poker face is non-existent.

One of these pet peeves, a fairly common one, is taking the elevator one floor (sometimes even two – depends on my mood). If you’re capable of walking and you’re not carrying five different bags/boxes, and the stairs are right there and easily accessible, then why do you insist on getting in at ground level and slowing down my trek up to the seventh floor?

secondfloor

It’s even worse when I’m coming down from seven and the doors stop at the second floor. Really? You couldn’t walk one flight down? Exercise is a good thing, people. Embrace it.

obesity

Last night, I got in the elevator and the other girl pressed the button for the second floor. I could feel myself looking at the button, and then my face shifting, involuntarily, into judge-y mode. Which is probably why she felt the need to explain: “I’m coming from down a floor.

That’s nice.

Next time, take the stairs.

End rant.

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