A YEAR IN YOGA PANTS

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My first rule of yoga pants: no boring black. 

.. or how one day I decided to change everything

The pants don’t make the yogi.

Or do they? Probably not, but yoga pants, in my perennially available opinion, are the best things on the planet.

Truthfully, I have no idea what makes a yogi. I’m new to the whole downward dog scene and still find all the sanskrit names for the positions bewildering. I have no idea what position my teachers have just called for the class to move into, something with a lot of musical syllables, meanwhile I’m on my mat making a split second decision between what is my left side and what is my right, usually getting it wrong–Twister without the dots. I’m hoping one day to really nail this down, which is left and which is right. It will be truly life changing.

This isn’t a how-to column about yoga. This isn’t a column, I don’t think. It’s an experiment. I’ve been wondering the past few weeks of how my life would change, if I spent a year in yoga pants. This is not about fashion, or rebelling against dress codes, or selling a brand or yoga studio memberships.

This is about answering the question: how would my life change, if I wore yoga pants for a year?

In the meantime, I practice left/right left/right and I wear yoga pants.

When I first started in the class, I could hardly move. My body felt like it was made out of peanut brittle. Child’s pose was challenging–that’s the one where you curl up and relax like a baby and just lay there. In theory.

I have stuck with it, though and after three months there are welcome changes in my body and in my life and a growing number of yoga pants in my closet.

This isn’t a how-to column about yoga. This isn’t a column, I don’t think. It’s an experiment. I’ve been wondering the past few weeks of how my life would change, if I spent a year in yoga pants. This is not about fashion, or rebelling against dress codes, or selling a brand or yoga studio memberships.

This is about answering the question: how would my life change, if I wore yoga pants for a year?

I already have a hypothesis: I’ll be a lot more comfortable. But what else?

It’s day 2 of 2017 and so far I’m cruising happy. I am comfortable and colorful in my bird of paradise yoga pants with the sky blue background. I look like I look, who cares, and I feel like I can accomplish anything I put my mind and body to, which is my real aim.

It could be that I’m really gonna miss a non-stretch waistband digging into my kidneys. It could be I’ll miss scratchy fabric with no give whatsoever. But I doubt it.

As I begin, here are some rules I will follow:

  • No boring black yoga pants. Give me color! Give me pattern! Give me daisy legs! (But not Daisy Duke legs.)
  • Yoga pants can be worn under dresses, tunics, sweaters, and can be tucked in boots as the mood calls for.
  • All yoga pants MUST BE CLEAN at the outset of every wearing. None of this digging through the dirty clothes for the least offensive pair.
  • Yoga pants are not an excuse to be slovenly. There are enough other things that cause me to be slovenly, I don’t need to blame the pants.
  • Yoga pants are considered yoga pants if they allow this movement:
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A variation of Uttanasana, I think, the high lunge pose. I chose this photo because her pants are red and she’s awesome!

You never know, during the course of the day when you will need to open those hip flexors and throw down a good deep lunge. In yoga pants, I will be ready.

In yoga pants, I will move freely. It’s also my hope that I will laugh, love, think, and fail freely.

Stay tuned. Or better yet, join me.

#yearinyogapants

 

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