So, my husband, Phil, started going to yoga. And as I'm not one to like being 
left out, I decided to join him. It's a good thing our teacher is so good- natured, because she has some pretty goofy, clumsy students on her hands now. She, of course, is slim and gorgeous, and looks fabulous in every pose, so I just pretend I look like her. We go twice a week, and sweat like pigs (and look a little like pigs too). I think she won my heart, when at the end of the first class, she bent in a yogic bow honouring us and all her teachers, and as she bent low, she gave a little moan of pain....
Ahhh. She's human! Okay, I can work with her.
The first class was also filled with lots of skinny young things in spandex, and it took all my, "I'm beautiful just the way I am" self-talk to make it through the class. Since then, there have been a few older folks here and there, and students who show up in shorts and T-shirts, so that helps too.
And occasionally I can do something better than somebody else, which helps the bruised ego. Okay, yoga isn't about being better than others or looking good in spandex, or
being young; it's a spiritual discipline, that grows my relationship with myself and my body. But until I get really spiritual and ego-less, those are the things I notice the most.
So I've got lots of room for improvement. If you live in the Waterloo region and want
