Leggings should slip on without effort. The advantage of leggings is their comfort and second skin cozy. Wearing leggings should not feel like you just walked out of the sausage factory. This is why women prefer them over jeans. If we wanted them to feel like a sausage casing, we would wear tights. I haven’t worn fucking pantyhose in twenty-five years.
My issues with leggings are many. I’m 5’5″ right at the national average. To say I’m 5’5″ means very little in the world of women’s sizing. I’m short waisted (fellas, it means my rib to hip length is short). By contrast, I have a 32″ inseam that means my legs are longer in proportion to my height.
In the good ole days, I could buy shrink to fit Levi’s 501s to match my waist and inseam (sized up for shrinkage). I could go back to those shrink to fits, but the Universe gave us stretchy denim. The clouds parted. The angels sang. Mana rained from the skies.
Imagine Valentine’s weekend 2014. Like all Februarys in Colorado, the temperature was up and down. Rain one day, snow the next. I don’t typically mind it because it’s a short month and the onset of March means no more below freezing temperatures. I really hate winter.
Six-thirty in the morning before I teach yoga and I’m doing some tidying. Clean the kitchen, run the dishwasher, and take out the rubbish. One wrong step off the front porch and I ended up tits over ass in the driveway. The ankle was shattered.
Okay, my mother would say you’re getting fat, but most polite society won’t. And with good fucking reason. It’s none of their goddamn business. Maybe you have a thyroid condition or a metabolic disorder. Or perhaps, you are tired of dealing with all of the calorie counting bullshit and said fuck it.
The problem for me is if no one says you’re getting fat, I don’t notice. Until I see a picture of myself. You fucking know it.
You know it. Someone has told you, “You HAVE to try yoga! It’s GOOD for you!” Fuck that noise. Yoga for everybody is bullshit. Don’t get me wrong. I love yoga. I hope so; I’ve been practicing it for over 30 years. I don’t love this sing-songy, oozing bullshit I hear when someone is talking about yoga. Yes, I eavesdrop. I’m a writer, of course, I am.
This crap is everywhere. The top ten reasons you should try yoga. Yoga will change your life. Seven reasons you shouldn’t try yoga. Snort, like that, isn’t a shady bullshit move. Every single one of these articles tout the same malarkey if not the same angle. Oooh, we love yoga and so too shall you.
She’s been in my head for a while now. The F*cking Yoga Goddess. I knew how she should look, slightly snarky smile, raised eyebrow, and all.
I just couldn’t get her on paper. Kudos to the brilliant artists in my life, but I struggle with stick figures. Yes, I have to draw stick figures, it’s how I notate yoga flows. It’s hard.
Working on building the brand to launch the book, The F*cking Yoga Goddess has been my hidden muse. I can’t wait until my schwag arrives! Of course, we have the original sass, SFW sass, and punny sass (I’m a writer when all is said and done). You can pick your sassy poison.
While I’m hunting around for a great printer, we’ve set up a shop where you can order your own sassy version.
No perfect yoga bodies here. See in you the studio!