true life: yoga



This is the true story of someone who may or may not be me. 

Every day I unroll my yoga mat, arrange my block, my towel and my water, and I thank the yoga god -- I believe her name is Lulu -- that I'm allowed to practice yoga.

Because I have a secret. I belong to a fancy yoga studio, where the classes consist of shirtless men with six packs and ponytails, and tattooed women with designer yoga pants. Every day I slip in and pretend I'm just like them.

But my yoga pants aren't "wunder unders" or "astro pants". They're a rare style, called The TJ Maxx Seven Dollar Crop. They come complete with two holes in the thigh.

Whenever I see another pair of eyes meet mine in the mirror, I know what they're thinking. Why doesn't her tank top have the same logo everyone else's has? She doesn't belong here. SECURITY!! 

I'll tell you why my tank top doesn't have a logo, yogi mcjudgey eyes. When I read on the internet that Costco was selling no-name brand workout tops for $12 that were supposedly lululemon overstock, I immediately called my sister, a proud Costco member, and made her buy some. Can I get back to my vriksasana now?


It's hard living with my secret. But I get by, one sun salutation at a time.