If you laugh at yourself and no one is watching, was it really funny?
I can make me laugh. Not because I’m a riot, though I fancy myself to be humorous.
Sometimes the exploits are painful but funny, like arriving at the ER naked with a dislocated shoulder. I know, sexy.
Sometimes I’m fooled by obnoxious but lovable co-workers. One time (at band camp), I was scheduled to do 15 interviews in a single day. The world’s largest bookstore was slated to open. It needed to be staffed.
To say we were tired is an understatement. 12-15 hour days. Nights. Weekends. Everyone was punchy.
It could have happened to anyone….
The name of one interviewee was Seymour Butts. I know. I know.
I waited. No Seymour. I should have noticed the giggles from the guys.
But I didn’t. Then there was a phone call. Seymour had to cancel the interview because, wait for it…
He had hemorrhoids. The jig was up. They couldn’t hold it. On the floor, feet up in the air like cartoon characters, convulsing with laughter. Tears streaming down the face can’t catch hold of your breath kind of laughter. Oh boy….
Seriously, it was hysterical. It was 15 years ago and I still laugh. Hard. How did I miss it?
I didn’t have older brothers and apparently didn’t need them because I found them at work.
I shudder though to think what would have happened if they saw me the other night.
Let’s put it in reverse for a un minute .
I’ve been avoiding two things in the yoga world:
1. Buying a Manduka or Jade yoga mat
2. Owning a pair of lululemon yoga pants
I’m not that chick. I don’t have ‘yoga gear’. I have a gym bag. I do yoga in t-shirts and leggings. I secretly and now I suppose not not secretly, thought that investments in expensive yoga mats and clothes weren’t necessary.
(Hot classes being the exception. You can’t wear much in a room that is over 105°. And trust, it gets over 105°. I made the investment to buy hot yoga shorts. Sorry, I digress)
Shamefully, I think my anti-schitck may have been my schtick. ‘Hey look at me, I don’t do all that yoga girl stuff.’ Ego sneaking in the backdoor as anti-ego. I see you, though. Nothing gets past me, except Seymour.
Practicing every day changed my thinking. Initially, I didn’t want to spend a lot of money of yoga clothes because it seemed silly. But cheap clothes get stinky quickly no matter how often you wash them. Not to mention the cost of laundry detergent (I find the price of Tide criminal- but I don’t have a choice if I want funkless clothes). So I went on the hunt for yoga shirts and a great pair of yoga pants that would wick away sweat, withstand daily washing and make my butt look awesome.
I did serious research. Eventually I settled on a pair and was sooooo excited. They were under $100 bucks, but I was excited because I knew that I would be able to brag that I didn’t pay as much as lulu but they do the job.
When the package arrived I ripped that plastic off like a kid at a birthday party.
Snatched off my pants and slid on my purchase. Checking out the backside in the mirror, I was pleased. Check. The material felt great. Check. The final test, swan dive down and do a few sun salutes.
Let’s just say that things got cheeky. It wasn’t the sizing either. They just didn’t hug properly at the hips.
Arrrrgh. I’m not a carpenter or a plumber.
I wondered if I bought another pair and I didn’t like them, I’d be out the cash for the pants and even more growly.
I went to the lululemon site. I read reviews on other sites. I broke down and ordered a pair.
I couldn’t be happier. I can wash them daily. The hug my hips and keep my booty covered. I will have these for a very long time. The clothes don’t make the yogini, the yogini makes the yogini. But proper equipment is sometimes necessary. I was wasting money on yoga pants that I was tossing every few months.
I can’t help but wonder if there may be some merit to investing in a yoga mat. My knees might thank me…
This is yoga. And it fits just right.