Tabs was quite the professional athlete, but as much as he tried, he just could not get into yoga. He would go, lay down on the mat, get ready to stretch, and promptly fall asleep every single time.
I think the studio he went to eventually just told him to stop coming because his napping was so distracting to all the other students. He was just too sexy, even asleep.
I took him to Bikram yoga once and dropped him off at class, went back to the car and settled in with a good book thinking he’d be in there at least 45 minutes. Less than 5 minutes later he comes sauntering out saying, “Nope, nope, not gonna do it. Too sweaty.” Then he made me drive him to In ‘N Out to get a vanilla milkshake. It was the weirdest thing.
Rosie, on the other hand, is a yoga superstar. She just started taking classes, and she really likes it. She came home the other day and said, “Mrow, row, mrow,” which roughly translates to “I think I should start a movement that requests the renaming of downward and upward dog to downward and upward cat.”
She’s so into yoga that she’s constantly contorting herself and stretching wherever we go, which I’m all for.