Monday Musings With Dissy: episode 9

As you all know, I turned the big 5-0 a couple of weeks ago. So far, it’s been a pretty good experience for me. I’ve heard a lot of people say the same thing, women in particular, that turning 50 is liberating.

My only problem with it is that I can’t remember shit anymore.

I guess I really can’t blame the age thing for that, though, because it’s been going on for a while now. No matter how many times I read that this is perfectly normal for “women my age,” it bugs the ever-loving shit out of me.

My point in griping about this is that I come up with about 80 billion (yes, BILLION) brilliant ideas for improving humanity on a daily basis. How many do I ever remember? zero.

This dude looks more like a donut.

What I do see on my facetyspace feed today, (that I feel has about a zero percent chance of improving humanity (that’s just IMN-S-HO, though.) is that there’s a thing out there called “rage yoga.” Let’s learn a little about “rage yoga” before we judge it, shall we?

“Tired of feeling “really out of place” in traditional yoga classes?” No. No I’m not. Why? Because I haven’t. I’m not sure there ever has been a “stick up their ass” yoga school like you describe in your ad. At least not in Northeast Ohio, anyhow, and I’ve taken classes in a Hindu temple, what I’d term “soccer mom yoga studios”, my own living room floor, community classes held in parks, and tiny schools set up on the wrong side of the tracks. They ALL share a common theme of being welcoming, helpful, and non-judgmental.

Yoga, for me, is very much about the peace and quiet, as it is for everyone else who is there. No one there cares what you look like in your yoga pants and tank top. No one cares that you need modifications. No one cares. If you feel judged, maybe it is you judging yourself.

The “alcohol-filled” description in the title of the article I read is also concerning. Not gonna lie… I’ve done yoga before after having drank a few beers. I also ended up with Wonder Woman complex, tried to go WAY too far, and hurt myself as a result. Booze and any kind of exercise (and, yes, yoga is a physical activity and is a form of exercise) at the same time is not a combination I would recommend.

Now, I’m always down for profanity (another thing mentioned). I’m pretty sure that I’ve whispered “shit” a time or two during my practice. And guess what? NO ONE CARED!!!

Judge Judy even thinks it’s bullshit.

But seriously? This is a thing? I mean, any kind of exercise can break frustration, anger, and aggression. This seems, to me, like something someone made up because they want to “mean girl” something they thought they experienced one time at a soccer mom school.

Get over yourself.

Now… I have to go cook up some plans for the rest of this week’s blogs.

I’ll come up with some great shit, and I’m sure Barb will too. Then, we will both forget them. But she will write hers down, so she’ll be good to go. Not me, though.

Cent’anni, Bitches!

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