Honestly, I thought about this as I was binging The Real Housewives of Atlanta for the seventieth time in the past two days, or shall I say, since we received internet in our new apartment. On July 7th, at exactly 11:03 am, I watched and completed a full yoga session in accompaniment with Alo Yoga. I lunged myself into my yoga clothes, wrapped my hair up in a top knot, and meditated for exactly five minutes before I began my session. After it was complete. I started getting stressed about moving to Austin, and I haven’t meditated or picked up my yoga mat since.
When I first realized that it had been so long, my initial feeling was panic and disappointment, and then I started thinking about all sorts of other things, like…
OHMYGOD! GET OFF OF YOUR FUCKING ASS AND STOP WATCHING REAL HOUSEWIVES OF ATLANTA!
Good job Drew, listen to yourself. Do that. Remember when your back wasn’t hurting and you felt spiritually and physically connected to yourself?
Remember when you enjoyed doing yoga because it was a little breather in your day? Go back to that. You were a better version of yourself. Granted, you were a sweatier version of yourself, but you were also glistening with the light of a thousand dew drops because that is how yogi’s sweat.
One leg at a time, that is how this all begins. First, you remember to touch the floor with your feet. This will cause awareness in your body and remind you that you aren’t just going to lie in your bed; instead, you are going to move your body. But first, I need to check my phone.
Obviously, because I haven’t looked at it in a while.
Scroll. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll.
Ooh, look at how cute those shoes are.
Wait. NO! I NEED TO STOP DISTRACTING MYSELF. I NEED TO DO YOGA!
That’s right, I was going to change. I make my way to my closet and one foot at a time, I begin to undress and dress in my yoga clothes.
‘Have I gained weight? Or why are these sticking to my thighs so much? Oh my gosh, it’s the humidity. Okay, no!’ I undress, out of my yoga clothes, throw on some shorts, and head over to my AC and turn it down to 68 degrees.
‘Whatever happened to that band? Wait, actually I think it was 98 degrees. Wasn’t Nick Lachey part of that group? Whatever happened to Nick Lachey anyway?’ I head over to my computer and look up Nick Lachey. Apparently, he reunited with 98 Degrees in 2016, supported legalizing marijuana in Ohio, and spilled all the tea on the Simpson clan on Andy Cohen’s Watch What Happens Live. ‘Interesante.’
Ooh. B, just texted me.
Yes, I would like to hang out with you. I should probably get ready though. Ugh! Why am I still schvitzing so much?
If I saw myself right now, what would I think? Why is there so much sweat on your brow when you literally moved from one area of your air-conditioned apartment to the other? Knowing this, maybe there is a way to cure my sweat issues. Schvitzing problems, that should be my new twitter handle.
Schvitzing myself to death in Austin, Tex. Does that rhyme? I don’t think so. I should look into loose clothing only. No more pants for me, only short shorts and flowy Tommy Bahama short-sleeve button downs.
Oh. Fuck. I forgot to do yoga.