June 29, 2015

Dressed in Black Again: Embracing the Un-evolved Self.


Warning: Naughty language ahead!


Call me immature. Tell me I don’t get it.

Or maybe you’ll recognize a little bit of yourself here? I’m pretty sure no one’s perfect…

Let me give you a quick heads up: we all have those corrupted parts to our personality that have apparently gone down on our permanent record, no matter how many damn chaturangas we do.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Yoga likes it when we show up with certain character flaws to work on; otherwise, it would just be exercise.

I remember my first yoga class. It was a time, thanks to turning 30, the selling of my childhood home and an ensuing identity crisis, when I was going through a period you might characterize as, ”There-must-be-more-to-life-than-prowling-around-Hollywood-bartending-all-night-and-sleeping-all-day.”

That’s when I moseyed into a Saturday morning class at the gym.

It was the 90s, before social media. Before selfies and Luluheads. Before (hashtag) yoga.

The practice presented itself to me like a potion in a bottle with a “Drink Me” tag at a time when I was pretty thirsty for something, anything that would give me a sense of my place in this mad world. And resisting temptation was never my thing.

I don’t know what happened, except to say it’s 18 years later, and while it’s not like I’m typing this while in a handstand on my fingertips or anything, some things have definitely changed…and other things, not so much.


I still say the word “fuck” a ton. It’s awfully appropriate sometimes—and sometimes when it’s not, I use it anyway. All part of the fun.

I drink soda. Hey, it doesn’t mention anything about avoiding Tab in the Sutras, and fuck, that stuff still tastes as good as it did back in the day.

I eat meat. What do you expect? There’s a gourmet taco truck right outside the studio.

I blew off yoga this morning to curl up on the couch and watch a horror movie. Join me next time.

I love Trader Joe’s Cookie Butter, straight out of the jar. Yup. My husband calls me “sugar monster.” And FYI, I wouldn’t recommend actually licking it off the knife. Big mistake.

I may have had a few puffs of a Camel Light today. Fuck it, I’m not sorry.

I’ve never read The Bagavad Gita all the way through. Or The Fountainhead. It bores me. And I just don’t get it.

I didn’t have a bank account for like, four years at one point. Partly because for fear of the dreaded “man” looking over my shoulder, and partly…well, that was really the only reason.

I order Domino’s. Politics aside, it’s damn good pizza.

I still dress in all black. And yes, that was me blaring Depeche Mode when I rolled up to the studio this morning, in my black car with my black jacket on.


Here’s the truth: I know who I am. And I still show up to yoga.

I grew up, and became less confused about life. I became a good daughter, someone my parents were proud of. I don’t lie, act reckless, hitchhike, keep dirty secrets or stomp my feet when I don’t get my way.

But something’s got to keep me on the rightous path to freedom, and I’m sure ain’t gonna be the three carne asada tacos I ate off the food truck last night.

In Alice’s Adventures in WonderlandLewis Carroll wrote (as the voice of Alice), “I knew who I was this morning, but I’ve changed a few times since then.”

Change sucks. For me, some things might take a while, and I’m sure I have many lifetimes left to properly dispose of all the karmic garbage I’ve left behind.

Or less…I’ve also become a lot neater.



Relephant Read:

Yes, I’m a Serious Yogi, But I Still Do These 6 Things.


Author: Anne Clendening

Editor: Emily Bartran

Photo: YouTube Still


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Stacy Porter Jul 8, 2015 8:16pm

I cannot describe how much I LOVE this article! I just got home from a night out with a friend (who I only see about once a year) where we ate this bourbon chicken dish (which I only get once a year, with this friend) and was about to fall on the couch in a puddle of guilt. This was just what I needed to read! We don't need to be perfect. We just have to be. THANK YOU! xoxoxo

Rachel Jun 29, 2015 7:14am

Love this!!
Know who you are and bring You to your yoga. Love it.

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Anne Clendening

Anne Clendening was born and raised in Los Angeles, California. She is a yoga teacher and author of Bent: How Yoga Saved My Ass, published January, 2018. You can read her darker thoughts on her blog Dirty Blonde Ink. She is currently living in L.A. with her husband and their boxer dog Sabina.