I’m having sex later and don’t want to be exhausted.

My yoga clothes are out of date.

I didn’t want to take someone’s spot who wants it more.

I am a total animal rights person—what does yoga have to do with animal rights?

My bifocals cause me to lose balance.

I’m better than the teacher.

The people in class make me feel lame.

My mat has a wrinkle.

The mirror in the studio makes me look fat.

That stillness thing freaks me out.

I think it’s causing me to love my body too much.

I’m getting drunk tonight and I don’t want to be a hypocrite.

I feel gassy and want to avoid an embarrassing episode.

I’m having sex twice tonight—that should be enough deep stretching.

I have a thing about pigeons and this yoga teacher always makes us do that pose.

I am afraid of snoring in Savasana.

The Sanskrit words remind me of Devil-talk and then I think of Jesus and then I think I should be in church and then I feel guilty for not being in church and it’s just as easy not to go through that when I’m currently in a gay relationship.

My mat is wearing out.

I hear other people laughing inside their heads at me.

My mother didn’t do yoga and she is centered.

Sweaty people are gross.

I heard on Fox News that exercise turns out to be harmful.

Some people’s mala beads are too noisy.

I don’t have room for improvement in my busy day.

Too many breathing people in one room.

It’s 4th of July weekend and yoga isn’t an American thing to do.

 

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Editor: Renée Picard

Photo: Allie Holzman at Flickr