I’ve fallen off the yoga wagon. Hard.
not my belly
Our summer schedule doesn’t allow time for the mom to make it to yoga class. I bike and swim with my son, but yoga quest is officially suspended.
I can hear my instructor. “I see some bellies that look like they’re on vacation,” she’d say when we weren’t properly engaging the core in class.
She’d be mortified to see that now my belly really is on vacation. It’s on a Mediterranean cruise, complete with an endless antipasto bar and a Big Gulp Coke. Sip on that, Mayor Bloomberg.
It’s gone to Disneyland where dreams really do come true whether you exercise or not. You’ve never seen Snow White on a StairMaster, have you? All you need is a little Tinkerbell, a pumpkin, and a pair of glass slippers.
My belly unfolds like a beached whale on the sand. It spreads out like a jellyfish washed ashore. I took it to Vermont, home of Ben & Jerry’s for crying out loud. Can you say Vermonster?
Enough! It’s not that bad. It’s not yoga-belly either. My pilates paunch has gone kaput. The core is no more.
My wellness coach friend Lisa Hautly wrote an uplifting, common-sense post: A Health Centered Approach to Living Well.
Ben & Jerry look strangely familiar
“Love your body,” she writes.
“Listen to your belly.”
I’m sleeping. I’m listening. I’m moving. I’m loving my body. Incredible, expanding belly and all.
Summer is flying by. School begins in six short weeks. The normal schedule will resume. I will drag back to yoga class.
My instructor may not recognize me sporting my new abdominal baggage, but she won’t turn me away. It’s the Y after all.
The core will engage. The belly will flatten. Equilibrium will return.
In the meantime, I’m not missing a moment of summer. And neither is my belly.
Wise words satisfy like a good meal;
the right words bring satisfaction. Proverbs 18:20 NLT
Something’s Gotta Give by Ella Fitzgerald.
So how’s your summer been?