How My Fake Yoga Became A Real Habit

We're being healthy. I hate it.

My husband has an exercise ball. It’s this huge, white, monstrous abomination of a thing, and it taunts me. It just sits there, looking all round and exercisey. I’m pretty sure that it’s working in cahoots with my new DVR, because every time I see something interesting on Fit TV, it involves that damned exercise ball. When this ball isn’t cahooting with Fit TV, it’s cahooting with my husband, pleading with me to do crunches on it while he cheers me on. I don’t believe there is a way that I can stress enough how much those crunches will not be happening.

It’s part of this regime we’ve been hitting ourselves in the foreheads with, including farm fresh veggies, lots of fish, and copious amounts of water. We’ve gone sugar free, lite mayo, olive oil, whole grain. And my husband, he wants it to be this working together thing. I eat tomatoes raw, he decides he likes them. I cut up cucumbers, he adds balsamic vinegar, and proceeds to tell me that I married Wolfgang Puck. I watch Top Chef, he asks me to pan sear monkfish (which kills me, because I am actually a Chef, and he worked at the Waffle House. Plus, I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what monkfish is.) The whole thing is absolute insanity. But I'm trying. This morning, I put yogurt and cantaloupe together, like it was going to create some sort of wondrous concoction equivalent to biscuits and gravy.

It didn’t.

So I need something, right? Some part of this neo-health atrocity that’s all mine. Gotta be tricky, though, if I’m going to outsmart my in shape arch nemesis…I mean, the love of my life. Then it came to me.

Yoga.

Yep, Fit TV has redeemed itself from the exercise ball incident, in the form of Namaste Yoga. The voice on the show is relaxing, I can light candles while I work out, and the twice daily stretching is doing wonders for our love life.
Best of all? Although my husband does his absolute best to mock it to death, he’s absolutely terrified of it. Not only will he not participate in it, but he calls it “Naam-ass-tee”, and goes outside to mow the lawn while I do it. If I space the show out enough, I can get two hours of quiet from one twenty minute episode. This is exactly the kind of thing I’ve been looking for.

Screw you, exercise ball.