Not so long ago, John Paul told me that to be a proper Trophy Wife I needed to tote around a yoga mat and have a nice ass.
In the last week, I’ve been to 3 yoga classes. Yesterday, I subscribed to Yoga Today on iTunes. Before the end of the Memorial Day weekend, I will have sweated, downward-facing-dogged, and Omed my way through 2 more hatha classes. I have a mat and I carry it to and from class. Thanks to a decade as a competitive fencer, I have a “perfect” Warrior II pose. There is a semblance of legitimacy in my demeanor.
But as for my ass, well, I can’t be a fair judge — in that respect, I’m a typical female who is very good at finding cellulite that may or may not actually be there.
Tight ass or not, the main thing, ladies and gentlemen, is that this T.W.i.T is a girl with a mission: to master the Fire-Fly Pose.
My recent obsession with yoga has little to do with John Paul’s advice or my Trophy Wife “aspirations.” Since January, I’ve been a full-time athlete. The travel, the competitions, and 6-day a week training/cross-training regiment have taken its toll on my joints and well-being. So far, Yoga has done a better job of keeping my knees functional than my physiotherapist.
It seems that I’ve been spending a lot of time in classes these days. 8 weeks ago, I started taking German at NYU. I have two classes left and then I can translate newspapers for you and tell potential employers that in addition to French, I “have” German.
So the yoga classes are supposed to bring me one step closer to both incredible flexibility and a tight ass (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) while the German classes are supposed to help me land a coveted curatorial gig at a mega-NYC museum.
Watch out Stepford — there’ a new girl in town… and she speaks German while holding a picture-perfect Chaturanga Dandasana (sort of).