So, huh hum, well, anyway, righto then. Yoga, yes.

I have the yoga DVDs, the yoga mat, the yoga pants, the yoga music, the yoga incense, the yoga bowl, the yoga bell, the yoga husband, and the yoga chanting mantra machine thingy. Alas, it is time for the actual yoga. YIKES. Only one thing remains: the yoga resentment.

See, what happened was...

Ten or so years ago I was deeply entrenched in the healing community of the town where I lived at the time. I practiced a form of massage therapy called Tui Na and was something of "the therapist's therapist." I had taken a few yoga classes here and there, like most of my therapist friends, but really, I was just not that into it. Then one of our local gurus offered a yoga teacher certification class and several of my close friends took it. I did not.

Well, long story short, they all started teaching, taking, eating, breathing, and shitting yoga and *wah, wah, wah* I was left out. I HATE BEING LEFT OUT. Connoisseur of Control that I am, I want to be asked to join and have the proper right of refusal.

Lo, these many years have passed yet my mild resentment about not being included in something I didn't even want to do has not. I can hear some of you casting aspersions! Awwh, go ahead, call me crazy for succumbing to that most basic human drive to belong to my clan, whatever it is they're doing.