DAY THREE

Rest assured I DID NOT look this composed.

By the third day I can hear myself getting fatter.  I lumber to the front of the television, horrified at the fact that I’m not running outside on such a beautiful day.  I decide to try Yoga—something I’ve never been good at, but have tried many, many times.  Yoga in my living room makes sense to me…more so than hula hooping or running in place, so I’m optimistic.  My jazzy new see-through instructor starts me off with some stretching and some poses where I have to have one foot on the balance board and one foot off, so my legs are in some kind of weird unbalanced lunge.  We go through a series of standard moves: sun salutations, deep breathing, and warrior poses.  I’m not sure if my form is right because my yoga instructor can’t see off the television screen to correct my posture.  Then she suggests we do balancing poses.  Like what the hell is the obsession with balance?  Never in my life have I needed balance in order to work out.  I hold tree pose (or Trii pose) for an unimpressive amount of time which results in my instructor telling me I have poor balance which results in me telling my instructor to fuck off and turning off the TV.