I teach yoga a lot, I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned that before.
Yesterday I was teaching a weird class and I got all preachy about love being simple. I have to do that sometimes when classes are…bad. They were just being bad, like all types of classes can be. Chatty, people running in and out, had to ask multiple times for quiet to start the class, you know the stuff. THEN, there was a new person who put her mat right in front and huffed and puffed really demonstratively the entire class. Also loudly said she couldn’t breathe several times, which I later found was just because she recently quit smoking and it was “way too hot” in there.
It was 72 degrees.
So anyway, I taught this really long lovely class with some hard-ish postures and also a message about how love isn’t conditional or complicated, it’s just really calm and steady and sweet, and as soon as we learn to love ourselves (not like, I love my body, but REALLY loving ourselves) then we can offer more love to the world, all that jazz.
That’s a message for another day.
So anyway, after class the huffy puffy woman came up to me and told me that she needed to come more and more and more to get better at yoga and that she really couldn’t breathe but then her lungs needed to get stronger, and then we had the following conversation. Please envision this person with a strong Eastern European accent, because that’s what she has.
Student: I hear yoga make lose weight.
Lindsay: Well, some people do lose some weight if they start an intense yoga practice.
Student: you do yoga all the time?
Lindsay: every day, sometimes more than once.
Student: I thought yoga make lose weight, but you have belly. You have baby in belly?
I’m not pregnant. Is the end of this story. And apparently I’m supposed to be steadfast in offering love to this woman who will now be coming to my classes every week.