Confessions of a yoga drop-out


I ventured outside after The Big Chill this week to plant those poor little pansies and cabbages I purchased last October and never got around to getting in the ground.

After rupturing a disc last November, I got “laid up” for the rest of the year.  For three months,  I’ve done little more  than sit by the fire with a good murder mystery while drowning my depression in chocolate and peanut butter. Actually, it  wasn’t all that bad.


But, let me tell you.  Inactivity will come back to haunt you.  Today, I got down on my hands and knees to plant my little pretties, and couldn’t get back up.  So there I am on all fours, on the busiest thoroughfare in town.  People were driving by, waving and smiling with no idea that I was paralyzed from the neck down.

You would think someone would notice the grimace on my face and stop and come to the rescue of this damsel in distress who was waving a dead cabbage in the air like an SOS.  But neeew.  I guess they thought I was another funky piece of garden art which I’m always dragging home from the junk yard. 

As nightfall threatened, I realized I had to find a way to get back inside.  I crawled on all fours over to a pine tree which was painfully far away. I pulled myself up and limped inside, dead cabbage still clasped in my grimy hand. 

Are my happy days of puttering in the garden gone forever?  Will I sit drooling in my big old easy chair in a sweat shirt smeared with chocolate and peanut butter for the rest of my life?

I was determined to reclaim my once lithe figure…well, okay, my once movable figure.

Someone told me yoga was the answer.  So early this morning, I put on my tights (way tighter than last year) and began undulating to the soft whispering voice of the Yoga guru on Fit-TV.

I bent this way and that and attempted to become a human pretzel. I was doing okay until I had to dip my head and peer upside down at the TV through my trembling legs. Suddenly,  the earth shifted on its axis and I figured the New Madrid fault had finally decided to correct itself.

I stood back up and changed the channel to the Food Network. Paula Deen was deep frying macaroni and cheese.  Okay. I could deal with this.

Somewhere between Paul Deen’s excess and yoga’s simplicity, there must be a place for ordinary people like you and me.

Incidentally, if you are a gardener, or just a “wannabe,” you must attend the Everything Garden Expo March 5-6 at the Mississippi Horse Park in Starkville. I’ll see you there – I’ll be the one driving around in the Hover-Round.


2 thoughts on “Confessions of a yoga drop-out

  1. This is too cute. Is this what I have to look forward to as I get older? If so I will not be planting flowers or doing yoga lol……..

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