“Here I go again,” I think as I tumble to the floor after unsuccessfully trying to twist myself into a human pretzel. It would seem that yoga is not for the balance-challenged!
 
The New Year has dawned and, like many of you, I am suffering from post-holiday guilt. I consumed too many goodies and exercised too little. Although I stick to a fairly strict exercise regimen year round, it is easy to slip during the busy holiday season. To make matters worse, there are too many parties with sinfully indulgent treats, family dinner celebrations with childhood favorites and seasonal truffles at Godiva. My self-control gets taxed to its limit!

And, I feel sure that I am not alone! Every year at this time, neglected fitness equipment gets dusted off, weight loss resolutions are made and finding a parking space at the Wellness Center is nearly impossible. It is as if turning the calendar page wipes clean the past year’s lapses and we begin anew.

Unfortunately, these good intentions are easily forgotten once February rolls around. Therefore, to get myself back on the right path, I have been dragging myself out of bed half an hour early to practice yoga, which friends and family assure me will bring about total bliss. 

So far, I am experiencing less bliss and more up close and personal time with the living room carpet.  

It’s not that I am completely uncoordinated, because I do manage to teeter around on three-inch heels all day. But, when I am required to perform acts better suited to a circus contortionist, my act falls a little flat – flat on my bum, that is! 

Lying on the floor and laughing at my latest failed attempt to bend in ways that would be much easier without all these pesky bones, I recall the few yoga classes I have attended at the gym. Although the very patient instructors filled the room with soft light and calming music, I was never able to concentrate on the poses because of my fear of causing a domino-like effect if I lost my balance and fell on my neighbor. Better that I attempt this particular type of exercise in the safety of my own home, where I am a danger only to myself.

Not willing to throw in the towel quite yet, I make one more attempt at the laughing monkey pose, probably named such because if any actual monkeys saw me attempting to fold my awkward limbs into said position, they would find it highly amusing. 

“Here I go again,” I state for the fourth time this morning as again I end up flat on the floor. It would appear that I am not meant to find bliss, but I can find an extra half hour of sleep each morning!