I am packing for the Yoga Journal conference at Estes Park, and once again it comes to this: I don’t know what to wear!
In my first yoga teacher training the instructor made it clear that if you are becoming a teacher to get discounts on all the clothes then you are effed up. Okay, he didn’t say that. He said you are unenlightened, which is pretty much the same thing.
He went on to say that yoga was not about the pants. So apparently, he has never seen himself from behind? Let me be perfectly clear: If I ever find a pair of yoga pants that cost $19.95, make my butt look good and hold in my muffin top, then screw Aparigraha I am buying 50 pairs.
This year my book tour and teaching schedule brought me to various parts of the country and I discovered that what you wear to practice yoga is extremely regional.
In Los Angeles, everyone looked great. To keep up with those beautiful yogis I had my hair and makeup done for a video at YogaGlo, and then promptly went upside down. What’s more, the camera was at the back of the room so it has now immortalized a view of my butt. After seeing the results of this appearance, I ask again, can anyone possibly look good in yoga pants?
In Colorado, there is an understanding, and I believe it started 2000 years ago in Mysore or Boulder, that the truly enlightened are too busy meditating to shower. When I do look good people think I am, well, stupid. Here is an excerpt of an actual review of my book:
“This book is brilliant, which you wouldn’t think it would be just by looking at Michelle.”
Right? Apparently, you cannot be fabulous and be taken seriously at the same time. It is not allowed.
In Arizona this same understanding is held in Tucson where I frequently visit YogaOasis. One time I walked into the studio with everything matching, as in all in black, and this one dude said, “Every time I see you, you look like some kind of model.”
Um, I am not ignorant. I know that “model” is code for “moron.” But hey, as Einstein said, you could choose to live life as though everything was a miracle, or as if nothing was a miracle, and I choose to be fabulous, which is a freaking miracle at my age. BTW, I’m quoting Einstein baby. I am not a moron!
In Long Island, specifically the Hamptons, I noticed that the yogis there wear a lot of bling. I happened to notice that because instead of doing whatever the instructor asked us to do with our eyes closed, I had mine open because I was checking everyone out. Yeah, I know you are not supposed to do that. But come on!
I. Could. Not. Help. Myself. There was a lot of bling in that room. And celebrities! The only thing more abundant than bling was attitude. This is an actual excerpt of a conversation I overheard:
Yogi with Bling: “I am a yoga teacher, and I can tell you were over-efforting.
Yogi with Better Bling: “I am a yoga teacher too, and you were over-efforting more than me.”
This conversation proves that I am right when I say, everyone is a yoga teacher these days.
Now back to Colorado. One thing is for sure, I do not have to worry about packing bling for Estes Park where there are more elk per capita than yogis. But I am worried about the pants. I just want to know, can you be cute and enlightened? If not, I’m going to be hanging out with the elk. You can find me in the field outside the studio, but please, don’t take a picture unless my butt looks good. Thank you.
Editor: Kate Bartolotta
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