The Perils of Yoga

Afew posts back, I wrote about how I was starting to go to to yoga. I have been four times in total now. I'm getting a tiny bit better each time, with still room for vast improvements. Up until now I have worn a pair of "work out" pants, not exactly yoga pants, but acceptable. I combined these with a stretchy knit top with long sleeves, of a decent length so it didn't ride up too much when I was bending and stretching. This wasn't specifically an athletic-type top, but it was fine for my purposes.

I decided for a little motivation and because I just wanted to, I would purchase some sort of top for future yoga classes. I ended up in that giant store we all know of with its racks of inferior product and good prices. I spotted a tank top that cinched together at the back with a built in pseudo sports bra band that looked long enough for bending and stretching. It would go well with a nice zippered pullover. So, off I went to the tiny cubicle change room to try it on. There weren't a lot of sizes, so I was going to be trying on a size that I wasn't totally sure would be big enough. The door of this tiny cubicle did not have a separate lock that slid shut or even a hook and eye latch. The door just locked when it closed. I hoped. There were even cryptic instructions written in black marker over the door knob about pulling up when opening. (?) There are no change room attendants ready to stand guard. I stripped down to just my pants (remember, this tank top had a built in sports bra band- thingy) and tried to figure out how to get into this thing which kept flip flopping over itself, turning half-way inside out all the time hoping nobody was going to just open the "locked" door and try on their poorly made cheap clothing choices.

Eventually I gathered it up and controlled it enough to get my head through the hole and then shimmy the rest of me in, readjusting the sports bra band into place and looking in the mirror just long enough to know there was no way I was going to wear this to yoga or anywhere else for that matter. (When did THAT happen to my body?? Dear god, I used to have a waist, and less abundance of flesh over top and underneath the sports bra band thing). I couldn't wait to get it off and put my sweater back on (making sure I was standing in a position where I could kick back against the door if someone should try to come in).

I started pulling up from the bottom. The tank top part moved, and stretched, but the rest of it just stayed there. I tried to do the criss-cross action that women do with their arms to remove articles of clothing over their heads... but nothing was budging and I realized my arms don't really reach that way anymore. I pulled on the tank top part again and heard faint whisperings of stitches about to rip. I tried more shimmying. At this point, I realized I was stuck inside this ridiculous body-insulting piece of yoga foolishness. I recalled when my kids were little and wore turtlenecks and you would be either pulling them on or off and they would get their heads stuck in the turtleneck, and then they would get all panicky, like they would be stuck forever.

Worse still, I thought that certainly this would be the time that someone would push open the door only to find me contorted and half naked in my yoga straight jacket, and then would quickly apologize and shut the door, leaving me in there and not offering to help.

Obviously since I am sitting at my computer writing this, I did finally release myself from the grips of this tank top which I hung back up on the hanger for someone else to attempt to try on at a later time. I did not purchase it. I bought a different, easy to deal with t-shirt that is made out of some fabric that will move with me and wick moisture away from my yoga body. It is going to be a long time until I go shopping again.

Have you ever been stuck inside your clothes?