Yoga

I’m fat and I teach Yoga.

I’ve been thinking about this topic for a while and it isn’t one that I talk about. Weight is that one touchy subject for most people, especially if they weigh more than they’re supposed to, and even more so when you’re into yoga. Say what?! Yoga? That practice that makes sure people understand that they are acceptable and perfect just the way that you are?! How could you possibly have any kind of problem if you do yoga? Isn’t that the point? To take your problems away? Ideally, but it isn’t always the case.

The first time I did yoga it was with my best friend and a YouTube Video. When I started practicing it was to gain relief from the vigorous weigh lifting that I was participating in at the time. I was always stiff and wanted to get relief and stretch the muscles that I worked so hard building. I started my journey doing Yin style yoga. I needed the calm, long stretches, in order to make the gains I wanted in my weight lifting routines. The yin of my practice helped me find balance with the powerful vigorous yang style I was lifting. If nothing else, I am strong. I am also obese, or if it makes you more comfortable, fat.

Now that we have that out of the way, you will understand why it was intimidating the first time I walked into a live action yoga class. Can you imagine the looks on the faces of the very limber and thin yogi’s I practiced with the first time? I have always been a back row person, and I will always be one, but at that point it was for me to hide. I wasn’t really good at anything, since I was just starting my practice, but I was also determined. Yes, being the fat girl in the back of a yoga class was intimidating, and every time I go into a new studio I have the same thought “Please don’t let anyone notice.” News flash: They always notice! But it is empowering now, because people expect you to be one thing, and then you show them you’re another and they can no longer assume.

Why do you let the opinions of others bother you, you ask? Because it takes a LOT to get to the point where you ignore that kind of thing. Most days it is fine, other days it isn’t fine. Most days I am full of confidence and know I have the knowledge to succeed in my practice and the practice of others that I happen to teach. But teaching, being the fat yoga teacher, that is a different bag of tricks!

Talk about intimidating to step into the place of the teacher, and be the biggest person in the room. People think you don’t know anything, or that you can’t do anything, or that you can’t possibly be a yogi because you’re fat. That is because we spend so much time thinking that our weight defines us and determines who we are. We are conditioned as a society to shame and think terribly of people who are fat, no matter where we encounter them. I want to be the person that helps adjust the way people think and what people think yoga is supposed to be/look like.  I assume that when someone who has never taken a class with me before walks into the room and meets me as the teacher, the prejudice comes out. Why? Well, because that is what we’ve been taught to do. All yoga instructors can tie themselves into a knot and stand on their head, without the help of their hands, and must weigh less than 150 pounds, right? I mean, if you believe the internet then yes! But if you have the ability to think and experience things for yourself, then No.

If nothing else, as a yoga instructor I want to be able to influence others in the way they think and perceive what the shell of a yogi should be. Because that is simply what the fat I cary on my body is–a shell. It doesn’t tell you anything about me as a person. It doesn’t determine my value or skill level. It doesn’t effect you in any way, shape or form. I want people– fat or thin–to understand that you should accept people for who they are, instead of what you think they are. Give them a chance to explore what it is they have to offer the world, and let them do that without judging them. If you walk into a yoga class and the teacher is as big as two normal sized yogi’s, don’t underestimate them. I’ve seen some fat girls do some pretty impressive things!

Every single day I am thankful that I found a studio where I don’t feel judged or unappreciated because of my size. In my studio I’m not afraid of being the fat girl in the class. And if at all possible I hope to inspire other people who think they may not be able to do something to at least try. Cause you know if the fat girl can do it, you probably can too.

In closing, to all the fat girls in the back row of the yoga class, or the one at the head of the class teaching–you’re not alone. You are a spectacular being who deserves a place to celebrate the abilities that you have while not being judged for the things you can’t do yet (key word is YET). So, own your space on the mat and off. Own your body and your choices, and even though it seems impossible sometimes, ignore the negativity that others have for you. Yes, easier said than done as always. What if they stare? Stare back. What if they snicker and laugh at you? Honestly, if they want to make fun of you they will, but the beautiful thing is that the reason they make fun is because they don’t have the courage to do what you’re doing. They don’t understand the struggle of being the fat yogi or the fat instructor. And if they have time to sit and make fun of you, really they’re probably projecting their own view of themselves. We make fun of the things we don’t understand or that make us uncomfortable, and I can tell you right now that people get REAL uncomfortable when the fat girl isn’t afraid of being confident in herself.

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Life, Yoga

Father’s Day & Things

We made it through Mother’s Day, and even though I didn’t see my mom I made sure she knew she was loved. Tomorrow is my parents anniversary, followed by Father’s Day Sunday. At this moment I’m not sure how I feel. I am so sad for my mom, and I know the only thing I can do is let her know she isn’t alone. She’s taking a trip up to the town where they got married and where they spent the majority of their anniversaries. I know it will be painful for her, but I think it may also bring her some peace.

I have spent the majority of June celebrating my father. I took a trip around the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. Along this trip I hiked in rain forests, cliff faces down to the ocean, over fallen drift wood, and scaled the sides of mountains. I took with me a vile of my dad’s ashes so that I could have a little piece of him with me and so I could take him to see some cool ass places. This way, he got to see the world with me, ya know? I scattered the first ashes at Ruby Beach. I built little stone markers for each spot, but Ruby Beach there was a distant view of a light house, and the spot where I left him was one where fresh water met the salt. This is the first time I have seen the Pacific Ocean.

I also spread some of his ashes at Rialto Beach. When I was doing that I tried to write his name in the sand but in doing so I stopped watching the ocean, and it came up and got me. My shoes were soaked, which wasn’t super good news, but I had to laugh because I figured it was dad showing me he was there. This is also a beach that looked like where they filmed the Goonies, but that one is farther south (I think that’s what she told me).

Turns out that I still had a fair amount of ashes, so we had to find one more places to leave him. We were already done hiking the Olympic National Forest trails that we had planned on hiking. We ended up back in Seattle and I still had these ashes. So, Rose took us to a beach that was still part of the city. According to the stamp on my photographs it was called Golden Gardens Park. The fun thing about this spot was not only did he end up with a view of the water, he gets to watch boats go by because there is a marina near by. He also gets to watch the trains, because the tracks run along the back of the park. All of those things are, were, things he loved. The crazy way he showed me he was there was after I covered the ashes with sand, I turned to walk back to where my friends were, and lightning struck and thunder bellowed all around. The rain started just moments later. Apparently, it never really thunders in Seattle, or lightnings either. So, the old man made a loud sign to show me he was there. ❤

Dad didn’t have a connection to the Pacific Northwest, and honestly pretty sure he never had been there before ever. But when mom asked me if I wanted to take some ashes, I jumped at the opportunity. Not only did I want him to come, but I want him to go everywhere I go, from now on. One of the parts that hurt the most was not being able to come home and see his face and get a big hug and tell him all about my trip. It was the only way I actually had this experience. Even though there was no bear hug, and no breakfast talk about life (I had one with my mom instead and it was good too). So Sunday, to keep celebrating him I think I will go and roam around in nature, sit by the ocean, and absorb all the grace I can from the world and myself.

This is one of those moments when I think, had I know last Father’s Day would be the last I would have done something better. Shown more love. Been a better daughter. I don’t know what I would have done but it would have been something. My life is different now. I exist in a world where half of my genetics no longer does. I go one each day, and yet he’s not here. Some days are perfectly fine, but this whole month has been hell on my emotions. I know they say it comes in waves, and yes it does seem to do that, but this is one of those big long waves that surfers get a lot of good moves out of before it falls flat. It’s been going to a real long time, and I still have a couple days.

Love your people a little more today than usual, and each day from now add a little more. It makes it worth it.