Nobody Likes A Chubby Yoga Teacher

I have been entertaining the thought of becoming a Yoga teacher.

But there’s a small problem – I refuse to be a “chubby” Yoga teacher. I have some rules for myself: I have to lose my belly and be able to do the splits.

I have a recurring nightmare: I am leading a Yoga class doing a folding leaf stretch and my shirt creeps up (exposing my pasty muffin top). The old ladies snicker and point at me.

A doctor must not dry heave at the sight of blood. A pizza maker must be able to toss raw pizza dough around and not drop it on the floor. The splits are a mandatory thing for any Yoga instructor.

It’s not like I practiced gymnastics as a child and became limber. I was never on that “flexibility” wagon.

I am really close to being able to do the splits, but close enough isn’t what champions are made of. My rule is: the balls have to touch the ground.

The weight thing is important to me because there is a certain appearance one must uphold as a fitness instructor.

Richard Simmons may have a great Afro, but he never had a 6-pack. His personality and flamboyance do a great job distracting us from his frumpy belly.

Not to pick on him – his attitude is infectious. I don’t have his personality though, and I’m sure he can clobber me in a sit-up challenge.

I desire to have credibility. If you engineer a tower in Italy and it leans heavily to one side, no more architecture for you.

I can’t be the chubby Yoga teacher, it’s just irresponsible.


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