“Enough”

I read some of my old journals the other day. You know, the kind where you use a pen and write words on paper. (I believe that’s considered retro now, that’s how old I have  become.) Entry after entry I talked about how I needed to lose weight. The pages were filled with body hatred and self-loathing, interspersed with boy drama. But the idea that I didn’t deserve love because I wasn’t thin, the notion that if I couldn’t get to a certain weight, nothing in my life would ever work out, was ever-present. It made me so sad to read. Because essentially I’ve spent my entire life feeling bad about my body.

I’m a week away from 40 and still haven’t figured out how to fully accept my size. I have wasted so much time and energy on this. I’ve been on every diet. I’ve been fatter; I’ve been thinner. I’ve gone to therapy. I’ve tried everything except self-acceptance. I would go out on a limb and say that one of the biggest regrets of my life is that I’ve never been able to look in the mirror and say, “I’m beautiful.”

The biggest bullshit lie I’ve ever swallowed is that thin equals beautiful. I’ve spent a lifetime unable to love myself or feel worthy of being loved because I am not thin “enough.” This message is delivered to us pretty much everywhere we look. I’ve found it reinforced in the media ad nauseum and in my relationships, particularly with some of the men I mistakenly chose to give my heart to. The guys who said I’d be “really hot” if I lost weight (but they’d still have sex with me) or who claimed they didn’t know what they’d say if a friend of theirs commented on my size (no one ever had) or who casually mentioned over dinner that his friends looked down on him because he dated me (because of my body) (I never met these friends and assume they were imaginary). I could go on but I don’t really want to fall into a shame spiral this early in the morning.

When I turned 30, I quit smoking. I was an “occasional smoker” I’d say, but then I was smoking on breaks at work and on my drive home and at parties and after dinner and well, I was a smoker. But on my 30th birthday I gave it up, finally, after many failed attempts. I thought about how I wanted to become a mom and be around for as long as I could for my kid I’d someday have and so I quit.

For my 40th birthday I’m giving myself another gift: I’m quitting body hatred. I’m not going to stop working out or eating vegetables or taking care of my health. I’m just going to drop the ridiculous guilt and shame cloud that I’ve lived my entire life under. My problem hasn’t been not knowing what to eat or how much to work out. Rather, I’ve been stuck in my body loathing, operating from a place of hate and embarrassment rather than self-love. It’s just that, you guys, I’m tired of feeling less than because I weigh more than someone told me I should. I’m fed up with it defining my worth. I’m over the bullshit and done living out the lie.

Happy birthday to me.

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Dress Me Up

Next up on my wedding to do list is: Get The Dress!

I can’t very well walk down the aisle naked (holy crap, the nightmares will start now that I’ve said it aloud). I’ve already told you guys that I have a lot of trepidation about dress shopping. Shopping in general exacerbates my bad feelings about my body and with this being a very important outfit on a most important day, the pressure is on.

I’ve been pining some ideas of what I like even if the dress doesn’t come in my size. I have no idea what will look good and am prepared for a lot of misses rather than hits. Ultimately, I will attempt to try some on just to get a feeling for fit and style but my Plan B is to have one made for me or order one on line and have it altered to fit my style. I really would prefer a soft pink colored dress to a white one but we’ll see if that will be possible.

Here are some of the ones that have caught my eye:

I’m not sure if I’ll like lace on me but I am drawn to the idea of it. Seems romantical.

Avila By The Bay by Dolly Couture

Or if I felt like I needed that retro-vibe but also needed sleeves, maybe this one would do.

The Beverlywood by Dolly Couture.

This one caught my eye because of the cross over style of the top (flattering for my body type) and the detailing at the bottom.

Pinwheel Tea Dress from BHLDN.

I liked the simplicity of this style from Lanvu Vintage on Etsy. I could change out the sash to something more me. It appears to have pockets so- you know- sold!

I like this lace vintage one too. I could put a cool sash with it. I’ll probably try a lace dress on and go “blech!” after pinning all of these lace styles.

I do think I’ll want a short dress. That just seems more me. Plus I’m only 5’3″ so a long dress could swallow me up. This dress is sold so it’s not an option unless I had someone make it for me.

Ellie2 dress on Etsy by Leanimal.

I like this style of embellishment but depending on the dress, it might be too much. Also, let’s be honest, my boobs might overpower it.

This dress is called Amelia. That is my favorite girl name of all time. Fate?! But I worry it would be too poofy at the waist and make me look bigger than I am.

Amelia by TingBridal on Esty.

This dress is strapless and might be a bit much for my ample rack but I like the color and the cut.

I have pinned a couple longer gowns just in case. I don’t mind this fit and flare style from David’s Bridal.

I love the cut of the top of this Alfred Angelo gown. I know it would flatter me.

I just really want to be sure my dress is unique to me and fits my personality and style (like every bride!). Fingers crossed I find it and any tears I cry are tears of joy.

Does this emotional meltdown make me look fat?

Last week I had a major meltdown of epic proportions.

I had purchased jeans on-line. I hate jeans shopping. I think I hate it more than swimsuit shopping. As much as I proclaim I am a dress girl all the way, there is this piece of me that longs to just throw on jeans and a shirt and look effortlessly cool and hip and comfortable. But usually when I put on jeans I feel dumpy. I carry the majority of my weight in my belly so jeans that usually fit my legs don’t fit around my middle. As was the case with this pair. I got them buttoned but my stomach was smushed up and over the waistband. I walked out to the living room to show Mr. Darcy and was laughing about how ridiculous I looked. He even remarked, “At least you can laugh about it.”

I went back to the bedroom to change and looked at myself hard in the mirror. I stopped laughing and cringed. I felt ashamed and for me, shame usually gets masked by anger. I started to internalize my anger, saying terribly mean things to myself about being ugly, fat, unworthy, unloveable. I tried to cover up my downward spiral by going about making myself dinner (I had gone to dance class after work so it was nearing 8pm). But then my internal fuckedupness told me that I didn’t deserve to eat. Look at how gross I am. Look at how pathetic. Mr. Darcy tried to be comforting but I pushed him away saying I was going into the bathroom to probably cry. I feel so silly crying about my body in front of him. I know he feels helpless. I know he thinks I am beautiful. But I don’t. And that’s the crux of the problem here.

So I cried and then tried to pull myself together to go watch TV with him on the couch. I looked pretty pathetic sitting there, curled up into myself, far away from any comfort Mr. Darcy might want to try to give me. He tried, bless his heart, and I started to try to explain. “I just want to be normal! I just want it to be easier to find clothes so I can look like everyone else. And this is why I am paralyzed with fear about finding a wedding dress. What if I can’t find anything? What if it’s all dumpy plus sized dresses made out of cheap material? I’m so afraid I’ll have a horrible experience shopping that I will be pushed to this place of self-hatred and I won’t be able to come back from it.” It poured out of me and I felt too raw to sit there exposed like that so I left and went back to the bathroom.

I like to have my breakdowns in privacy.

I sat on the bathroom floor and bawled. I felt scared that I couldn’t pull myself back from the crazy precipice I had found myself at. I couldn’t self-soothe. I couldn’t rationalize my emotional roller coaster. I couldn’t catch my breath. I had spiraled to the dark place. I felt utterly alone.

I suppose this all sounds dramatic and maybe I was being over-wrought. I can usually talk myself down from this mental state but for some reason that night I was unable to.* When I opened the bathroom door Mr. Darcy was standing there, leaning against the wall. I felt even worse knowing he’d heard me- that he’d stood out there waiting for me to be done, knowing that if he’d try to comfort me I would have pushed him further away. So he waited and listened to me cry even though it was hard for him to do so. He’s learned to give me space but not to completely disappear and I am so grateful for him. So thankful that he loves me even when I’m clearly acting like a lunatic.

My therapy appointments are focused on my body loathing because it holds me back from being fully present in my life. Because it’s the thing I always come back to when I feel low. It’s my shame epicenter. And goddamnit I am tired of it. Despite a lifetime of dieting and trying different work out regimes, starving and bingeing, hating myself for not accepting myself as is and shaming myself for not being “an acceptable weight”, I’m just SO DONE carrying all this around. It’s like a barrier between myself and the life I want to live. I want to be free. And so, I’m diving into the deep emotional work and I’m basically terrified about what I could discover. But I’m doing it anyhow because this isn’t how I want to live. Even if it’s just an occasional breakdown, those feelings live inside me just waiting for the opportunity to break out. Where do those feelings come from? And why?

I hope to find out. And I hope what I discover doesn’t break me.

 

*Turns out those crazy emotions could be attributed to whacked out hormones. Thanks PMS! But still, something has to change.

Where I am coming from

When I share about my struggle with my body image, I feel vulnerable. I do it anyway because I know there are a lot of other people out there who feel similarly and are trying to figure it out themselves. Just like when I share anything personal about myself here, I do it in the hopes that it opens up a conversation and allows other people to feel less alone. So often your responses and emails do that for me. (Thank you.)

Sometimes I feel like I am not expressing myself clearly enough. These are  simple one-sided blog post that don’t flesh out all the complexities of the situation or my own thinking about it.  I know that I am too hard on myself. I know that I should just love myself as is or treat myself as I treat others. But knowing these things and feeling them are separate things. I’m in therapy to heal this part of me. I talk about how I don’t like that I feel so hateful towards my own body.  I’m trying to undo a lifetime of negative thinking. I’m trying to fight against distorted “socially constructed ideas of beauty” that I have taken on as my own. I’m fully aware that the mindset I have is toxic and I am actively trying to change it.

Those who encourage me to ease up on myself or just accept myself, I appreciate your support and I know you know it’s not that easy. Those who commiserate with my struggle, I’m simultaneously sorry and grateful that you can relate. But maybe we can figure this out together.

I am focused on losing weight because I do not feel comfortable at this size. I weigh too much for my frame- that’s just a fact. Bad knees run in my family and mine are hurting more as I get older. I want to have a baby in the next couple years and I’d like to not carry all this weight plus baby weight. Again, my frame and my knees will take the brunt of it. I am not seeking to be thin. I just want to be lighter. That might be 30lbs. That might be 60lbs. I don’t know because it’s been a long time since I dropped more than 35lbs. I don’t even know what my body will look like when I drop 20lbs. I’m taking this week by week. I’m certain that my comfortable weight will not be what doctors recommend (125lbs for 5’3″ frame) and will be what many would consider “plus-sized” or “voluptuous”. I’m okay with that because I like being curvy. It suits my personality and the style of clothing I prefer.

I guess I’m spelling all this out to clarify that I’m not seeking to be what most would consider skinny. I am doing this to feel better about myself and YES, for me, I feel better about myself when I am lighter. Maybe my way isn’t the way someone else would choose but that’s just going to have to be okay. Because we all have to find our own path to personal happiness, right?

Tipping the Internal Scale

The whole thing with losing weight is I feel bad about myself being heavy and I feel bad about myself on a diet.

When I am living my life heavy, I walk around feeling bad about how big I am. But when I am on a diet, I get so hung up on doing it perfectly that I walk around feeling guilty and on guard. I don’t like feeling either of those ways.

When I am on a diet I feel in control but that’s a slippery slope. I only feel good when I am being “good”- eating the approved foods. Last night I was cooking food to bring to friends and it’s not on my approved list but I needed to taste it to make sure I wasn’t bringing grossness over. (It was delicious, btw, and I wished I could eat more of it.) The two bites I had plagued me with guilt. Really. After I had done an hour of yoga and an hour of dance that day.

COME ON, SELF! This is an exhausting way to live.

I’ve been wondering- am I telling myself that I am not the type of person who can just be okay with what she looks like fat and all or is that actually true? Is what is true for me what I tell myself? I don’t know how to tell myself that being bigger isn’t a big deal. I don’t know how to accept it. I want to be lighter because in being lighter in body, I will be lighter in spirit. All this bullshit won’t weigh on me- literally and figuratively.

Mr. Darcy and I have talked about this a lot. He’s being super supportive and encouraging and I appreciate it very much. During our last joint couple’s counseling session it came up and I started to feel defensive. It sounded like he was saying I don’t like myself – myself in my entirety. But that’s not true (and he didn’t really mean it that way). I’ve worked really hard over the years to like who I am. It’s this one thing. This one area- my body image- that holds me back.

I’m trying to figure out why this is, why can’t I let go, why can’t I accept, why can’t I be loving to myself. So far all I’ve come up with is that being fat has given me an excuse for most of my life. An excuse to not 100% live my life fully. It’s given me something to blame when I feel rejected. It’s been the theme of my woe-is-me story. I don’t have the answer yet but I know that I am sick and tired of the excuses. Because I want to live in that 100% bracket.

 

Cycle 1 Recap & Results

Today is my first day on Cycle 2 of the 17 Day diet which means I can introduce some whole grains, starchy vegetables and legumes into my meals (thank god!).

Cycle 1 was. . . a challenge. I ate a lot of taco salads (without any tortillas), salads in general, chicken, cauliflower pizza, kale and poached eggs, non-fat plain Greek yogurt (my favorite is Fage- I did a taste test), berries, clementines and grapes (other fruit is allowed but these were what I gravitated towards). I drank 3 cups of green tea a day and 8+ glasses of water (the water intake is normal for me).

Being on a limited menu like this requires a lot of pre-planning. You have to know what you are going to eat at each meal because you also experience hunger differently. Without all the carbs and sugar to distract my metabolism/digestion I could tell when I was hungry- often because I was becoming spacey or bitchy (sorry, Darcy). The worst is being caught without any snack to eat to stave off a meltdown. It’s not that easy to find approved food on Cycle 1 when you are out and about. Needless to say, I kind of avoided going out these past 17 days. It was just easier to control my intake.

Plus, with the restriction of no alcohol, going out seemed even more difficult. A lot of socializing centers around drinking. I miss my occasional glass of wine (or 3), I’ll admit it. I think the thing that was the hardest was no grains. I am looking forward to having some quinoa and some oatmeal. I’m also excited about beans. Beans and quinoa, people, that’s what is making me salivate. What has this Cycle done to me?! I’m not really missing sugar which usually is true for me after a couple of weeks avoiding it. I feel 110% better when I avoid refined sugar and processed foods.

I kept my normal workout schedule of 1 hour of dance 5 times per week plus added in 20 minute workouts at home on the days I didn’t go to class. This cycle said to do 17 minutes each day but I didn’t want to do less than what I already had been doing for months. I’m going to add in some pool time in this next cycle now that my tattoo is healed.

I told myself I wasn’t going to weigh in until the end of the Cycle but I lied. I had a few meltdowns about the whole process, wondering if I was doing the right thing, if it was going to work, feeling like I was going to be a fat failure forever (I’m dramatic, ok?) and so I hopped on the scale once or twice during this cycle. Today, I recorded all my numbers and in the interest of full disclosure I’m going to put them here.

Starting weight: 219.4

Weight after 17 Day Cycle 1: 213

Measurements: lost 1 inch around hips, waist, bust, and thigh

Now I move onto Cycle 2 which allows me to alternate Cycle 1 with Cycle 2. So every other day I can incorporate whole grains, beans and other meat and fish options. I’m giddy with the possibilities. I’ve got a bunch of recipes I’ve been holding for this part. The hard part might be alternating between eating those things one day and being back on Cycle 1 limited diet the next. I’m committed to going through the three cycles to see how this all pans out. I already feel better about  my body have just dropped that inch around and those 6 pounds.

Fashion Forward, Take 1

A couple of people, including my friend Kim over at Kilax, have suggested I do some fashion-related posts which I will hopefully do a better job of in the future. Here’s a start.

I got this dress at Old Navy. It’s basically a housecoat but I belted it because, newsflash, housecoats aren’t flattering. As you can see, it has pockets. Dresses with pockets = Win (in my book). The yellow belt is most likely thrifted. I like that the dress is colorful and I could change out the belts I pair with it. The boots are from Target which I bought on a whim a year ago. I had never owned shoes like this before but now I have to take them into the cobbler to get repaired- I’ve worn them down from wearing them 4 times a week (understatement). I could dress this up with some yellow wedges or some blue flats. The shoe options are pretty endless and because of the colors in the dress, I can easily pull a variety of colors into my accessories. Score!

For me, dresses are simply easy, flattering, and lend variety to my wardrobe. I am drawn to   dresses that I can make unique with the accessories I pair with it. I probably only wear pants once a week if you’re not including the many hours I spend in my work out clothes. I find that as a short, curvy woman my legs are better shown off in a right-below-the-knee skirt than pants. I have had a life-long battle with hating my flat butt. Pants just seem to emphasize that sad fact. Belts are a recent addition to my wardrobe but now I am addicted. I think cinching at the smallest part of my body draws the eye there and is far more flattering than wearing a loose shirt that hides my curves. Besides, I have an, uh, ample chest, so if I don’t wear something that shows my smaller waist I tend to look as big as my biggest area (my rack) which is not a look I am going for. I am drawn towards big earrings since I have very little hair. I like how they draw the eye to my neck and face.

My advice to those of you seeking wardrobe inspiration is to try something on that might be out of your comfort zone and see how it looks on you. YOU HAVE TO TRY THINGS ON. If it doesn’t fit right, it’s not your body’s fault. Try a different size or style. If you’re clueless about fashion or feel you are in a rut, take a friend who enjoys that sort of thing or whose style you admire, and listen to their advice. It can be hard to change how you view yourself but it can also be life changing. The number one thing that makes a person attractive? Confidence. We’ll talk more about that in my next fashion-related post. Stay tuned!

Speaking of confidence-

It’s hard to convey with this split photo but I have done it again, chopped my hair into a pixie. Sometimes I shock myself when I look in the mirror- “Whoa! Where did my hair go?”– but for the most part, I like it. I don’t know what it is but when my hair is super short I feel really bad ass.

Disjointed Self-Perception

I was feeling pretty good about myself. Like more sure of worthiness, of love, of self-acceptance. I was getting better at saying aloud what my strengths are, albeit emphatically, because apparently I am in the phase where  I have to convince myself still. I was thinking to myself- I can do this! I’ve made it to the promised land of loving yourself! Hallelujah!

And then I looked in the mirror.

The scene was more like, Mr. Darcy pulled me back to sit on his lap on the bed and I gazed to the left and caught a glimpse of myself in our full length mirror. All I saw was a big lump wearing stripes and with a double chin. I pushed myself up and away, disgusted. I felt something in me sink. We were about to leave the apartment to spend the day outside in the sun and all I could think about was crawling into a big sweater and hiding in the safety of the apartment. I did not want to be seen. Who would want to look at THAT?

I certainly didn’t.

It’s hard on Mr. Darcy to hear me be down on myself. He says he doesn’t see what I see which is sweet and I love him for trying to pep talk me. I can’t accept compliments very well. And frankly, the problem has always been MY self-perception and inability to accept myself for who I am and what I look like as someone who is good and worthy of love. I spend a lot of time in therapy trying to sort this mess out. I go through periods where I am feeling stronger and other times where it’s all I can do to put an outfit on and walk out the door. I’m not being dramatic here. It’s debilitating, my negative self-image. I’m embarrassed to admit it but I’m trying to move past it completely so I have to be honest. I have to speak my truth and hope that in saying it, I’m moving towards a new truth.

I have spent the majority of my life ashamed of my body. I’ve learned to over-compensate for what I see as a deficit by being smart or funny or personable. It’s not that I don’t think I am a good person, a smart person, a kind person- it’s just that I don’t think the package I come in is all that worthwhile. It makes me sad to type that. It makes me sad that I believe that.

When I caught that glimpse of myself in the mirror I felt so dejected. On top of that I’ve seen a couple of photos of myself taken candidly where all I see is my lumpy, fat body. That’s what I hear in my head, “Look at how gross you look.” Gone is the feeling of strength from working out 5 times a week and the joy from moving my body to music and in its place is a feeling of not-enough-ness. I was trying to just focus on enjoying working out for the sake of enjoyment and health because the berating and guilt of “dieting” was hammering me into a bad mental state. But now I feel myself shifting into that mind-fucked place where I get obsessive about my diet, about my work outs, about numbers rather than just feeling good about doing something healthy for myself.

Have you done this? Felt that shift? Gotten bogged down with the number rather than the feeling? Or let the numbers influence your self-worth? What do you do when you get down on yourself?

(I know I talk about this topic a lot (too much) here. I also know I have to write it out to work towards a different place. Someday I hope these kinds of posts will be impossible for me to write because the feelings will no longer be true.)

Move in a New Direction

I have been bitten by a bug.

The dance bug that is.

First there was Nia which is more martial arts-inspired than dance but there are elements of dance routines and music blaring during the class. Then from Nia came Zumba. I LOVE ZUMBA. It is the most fun I’ve had working out in a long time. I am dripping in sweat, red-faced and smiling at the end of class. I have never typed those three things in the same sentence before. Woah.

I have always loved dancing. Even as a kid, I took ballet, though I have no idea if I was any good. But I really did look adorable in my pink tutu. I used to choreograph dance routines in my bedroom. Sometimes my sister and I would put on shows for our family and friends. I was, of course, always the lead because I was born bossy. (Sorry, Dokey.)

But then I stopped dancing in public. I let body shame take away something that brought me joy. I worried too much what people would think of me if I was out on the dance floor. In my twenties, I took a few partner dance classes- like salsa and rhumba and swing- and enjoyed them but it’s not always easy to find someone you can dance with well. Like I said, I’m a strong leader and I should publicly apologize to all the men who tried to dance with me then. I will say though, my sister and I, we really could cut a rug. When swing was big back in the ’90’s we would go wherever we could to dance and we were pretty good.

So here I am, years and years later, loving dance again. Specifically dancing solo in a class full of (mostly) women to tunes that vary from Bollywood style to hip hop. It feels good to be in my body. Yes! I just said that! And I mean it. It feels good to move in this body. I don’t spend that hour looking in the mirror cataloging my body’s flaws. I’m too busy grooving. I’m too busy sweating and trying to keep up with the fast-paced routines. I’m too busy having a good time to care if I look fat. Because the reality is, I am fat. But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy exercise, enjoy my body moving, be healthy and, goddamnit, feel sexy.

I saw this video and I’ve shared it out but I want to be sure you get to see it.

“Constantly worrying about your reflection and criticising your body, shape and size is an act of violence against yourself.” (Thank you, Feministing)

I want you to think about loving your body right now in this moment as it is. I want you to give it a try. Because if we all try? We will have a positive change on the debilitating negativity surrounding women and their body images. Do it for yourself. If you can’t do it for yourself just yet, do it for your daughter, your sister, your mom, your friend.

3 B’s Trifecta

How do I say this?

I’ve lost my yoga mojo.

Maybe it’s just me being in pre-event mode, totally busy, stressed out to the max, and wanting any free time I find for myself (and a glass of wine) to be about being at home.

Maybe it’s the fact that during last Sunday’s yoga class I felt dizzy for most of it. That dizziness coupled with the new focus pose for the next two months totally disheartened me.

Not only are we back to hand stands but we’re alternating that with this:

 

Thank you Yoguini for this photo. And to Katherine who makes this pose look easy.

 

In Sanskrit this pose is called Ardha Bhujapidasana. I like to call it, No Wayasana. Do you see that her leg is held up near her shoulder?

Before we even tried to get into this pose we did Tolasana or Scale Pose:

 

Thanks to About.com for this image.

 

I could not lift my ass off the ground to swing it from front to back. That was defeat number 2. Defeat number 1 was feeling faint every time I did a forward bend. (Yes, I ate breakfast! I don’t know why I was so woozy.)

Once I felt the failure of that pose, I think my mindset was pretty fucked for the rest of class. I don’t know if it is that I don’t have enough arm strength or core strength or both or if it’s the fact that I am bigger than your average yogi. I have a belly and big boobs and they get in my way when I try to get into some of these poses. I am very flexible and bendy but that doesn’t really matter when you have a chunk of chub and a mass of boob occupying the space you need to fold yourself into.

Body slamming aside, I was terrified of this pose. A different kind of terror than the one that overtakes me when I attempt to kick into handstand (I do not like being upside down!). I know that my mind was a big part of the problem. It was the 3 B’s trifecta: Boobs, Belly, Brain, that really did me in.

I even have trouble with this twist pose:

 

You can imagine that a belly might be inconvenient when trying to twist like this.

I can twist. I can even hold Chair Pose pretty steady and long. But adding a twist to the Chair Pose and I’m wavering. Mostly because of the 3 B’s Trifecta.

 

All this is to say, I haven’t wanted to return to class. The class my favorite teacher leads! Because I am afraid that I will leave there feeling like a failure like I did on Sunday. Because in my mind there is NO WAY I will be able to master that pose at this point in my practice. It feels too advanced. I feel too heavy. I don’t feel strong enough – despite working out 3-5x per week.

I am going to try to take two yoga classes this week with other instructors and see if I can regain my yogi equilibrium. If I can light that yoga spark inside of me again. I’m not a quitter but I also hate failing. Sigh. My teacher says that a true yogi laughs when they fall out of a pose because it’s not supposed to be a super serious thing. That there is an element of lightness to the yoga practice. She also says that when she can’t get into a pose, she walks away wondering the deeper reason why. Where is the resistance? That’s the question I am pondering presently.

Where and why am I resistant? Is it body limitations or my mind?