YogaI attended my first two ever yoga classes this week. The fist was part of my spinmamas (www.spinmamas.com – a women’s group that doesn’t scrapbook, and for whom dust bunnies are the family pet)  group who had 25 middle aged women doing the “downward dog” in tights on a populated beach at sunset before we hit the martini’s. Fun, but maybe not so graceful. Using another woman as balance while intertwining your  legs may seem like someone’s sexual fantasy, but I assure you there wasn’t anything sexy about it. I then dropped in at the powerful women’s yoga bootcamp (www.movementtohealth.com) because I really wanted to know if I could actually cut it turning myself into a pretzel. The group of women who show up there at 5:45 am seemed awfully bendy. Yes I want to be fitter, and yes I want to lose that 20 pounds, but more importantly, I want to know if it will make me more flexible in bed. Do these yoga queens have tighter pelvic floor muscles that me given I spend my days doing keegal exercises? Are they able to contort into those acrobatic Kama Sutra positions? And can they put their ankles behind their ears? What I learned is that yoga isn’t for pussies. It may not look like exercise, but try standing on one leg holding your ankle while bending down to pick up blocks with the other, and see if you don’t sweat up a storm. I find that my pecs are sore (maybe it will tighten up my bust – now that would be a public service), but for the moment I’m still having no luck putting my turning myself into the flexible love guru. So, I’ll keep at it, and see if a few weeks of being a powerful yoga chick will pay dividends in the bedroom. I may be swinging from a chandelier after all.   

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