Tag Archives: Shopping

I have opinions about lululemon. Who doesn’t?

Standard

 

 

Waylon Lewis over at Elephant Journal posted this little write up about the much circulated lululemon spoof. The picture above is the spoof itself and you can visit the website to read more about each claim (click above to go to Elephant Journal and follow the link.)

It seems that everyone who has ever heard about lululemon has opinions, passionate opinions at that, about the yoga clothing / retail store and their products.  I am no different.  I will come right out and say that I do not own any lulu stuff.  Not a single piece.  I’ve heard that they are incredible, made from great fabrics and quite comfortable and I have seen more than enough people wearing it to class to convince me that they probably are.  I wouldn’t know, I will never know, because I refuse to buy yoga pants for $98+.

That’s a large part of my problem with lulu.  I find it incredibly interesting that this practice of yoga started out with folks who had nearly nothing because it needed nearly nothing!  You don’t have to buy expensive equipment (mats are optional and there is even a movement running right now that says mats are a hinderance,) you don’t need special shoes, you can do it anywhere, wearing anything (or nothing,) you can do it for an hour or a day or a minute.  It’s a practice of nothingness and muchness.  What it is not, however, is something only for the elite.  There is no reason on earth or any other planet that you need to spend an electric bill on freaking pants.

Also, what exactly is up with the butt thing?  Don’t get me wrong, we all like to have great asses.  Don’t lie, you know you do.  Guess where you can get one?  FROM DOING YOGA, even if you’re wearing $10 sweatpants or, better yet, your pajamas!  It will look awesome in any pair of pants – for free!  And really, if you’re walking into a yoga class and you’re worried about how your ass looks in the pants you’re wearing to “focus inwardly,” I think you might have gotten lost along the way – the singles club is around the corner.  If you want to wear pants out and about that make your butt look amazing (and I admit that I often do want to do that,) wear pants for that, but don’t call them yoga pants.  They aren’t yoga pants.  They are ass pants.

And one more thing: while I am not  prohibited from wearing any particular brand of pants I choose, there are many, many amazing yogis and yoginis who are because even the largest of lulu’s sizes don’t even come close to fitting.  If I would buy lulu, I would have to be in the largest size.  I am nowhere close to being the largest yogini out there.  That just isn’t right.  Why exclude? Why limit?  If we are all one, let us dress one, eh?

I may be given a pair of  lulu pants some day.  I might fall helplessly in love with them.  I might wear them every single day, but I won’t buy them.  Nope, I won’t, because it’s against my own manifesto which, in case you were wondering, doesn’t care  in the least how great your butt looks or how much it cost to make it look that way.

#365yoga: Open hearts and super marts, letting go and twinkle toes…

Standard

 

So, confession time.  I read A Year of Living Your Yoga every day, but sometimes I find other passages are more fitting to my day.  While I try to practice according to the date in the book, I find that it’s also yogic to take what suits you and use that.  I’m just throwing that out there because, if you’re playing along, you might find that I write stuff pertaining to day 13 on day 19 or 320.

It might be that day today.  I honestly don’t know.  I read it this morning and I read it yesterday and I honestly cannot remember which date said to sit where you are and feel yourself being connected to everything around you whether you like it or not.  Probably was today, could have been yesterday, I just don’t know.  Nor do I care.  Because today, that’s the yoga I am living.  I’m pretty sure JHL would be down with it, so you oughtta be, too.

The best part of my day was this morning.  The roads finally cleared enough for us to open the studio up.  I held Gentle Yoga this morning and was so happy to spend the hour with old friends and new.  My focus was on opening our hearts to the lessons of the past and the possibilities of the future.  We opened and stretched and bent our backs and urged ourselves forward.  It was beautiful and lovely … well, there’s a saying that we teach what we most need to learn.  Yep.  Learner party of one, right here.

The minute class let out and I turned my phone off Airplane mode, I got one of those phone calls that no one likes. “Hi, Sarah, this is Mr. Nasal Voice from Horrible Insurance Company.  Yeah.  I’m gonna need you to fill out a thousand more forms.  Yeah.  And I know it’s impossible, but I’m going to need  you to do it in triplicate.  yeah…. and I know you’re not going to be able to do it, but I’m going to need you to get the person you no longer really work for to guess how many times you might substitute at their facility in this fiscal year.  Yeah.  Thanks.”

It was only 11:30 am, folks.  ARGH!

So I got home and called Mr Nasal Voice back and got clarification that his requests were, indeed, bullshit and that I would, indeed, give him what I could when I could.  Deep breath.  But then I got to thinking that, if this dude needed that kind of minutia detail for certain official crap to go through, well, then so might some other rather large nation wide organization that I already submitted mind numbing paperwork to just yesterday.  GAHHHHH!

Well.  The truth is that there is just nothing I can do at this point.  Nothing.  Freaking out about it does nothing for me but drag me down and make things worse.  Deep breath.  Let it go.  Be where I am, regardless of if I like or not.  I don’t like it.  I’m a part of it.  I don’t like it.  I am a part of it.  Deep breath.

My oldest son had an appointment this afternoon.  For some reason person we were seeing was , and always has been, more concerned about our schooling situation than he is about anything else.  I guess it’s maybe because he doesn’t have any experience with folks how homeschool, much less unschool, and so he’s kind of unsure how to go about addressing thing he might address to a schooled child, but… I felt, once again, that we are seen as a phenomenon instead of a family.  I continued to draw lines of similarity in how we function with how everyone else functions. I explained.  I respected.  I redirected.  I did everything I could, but at a point, there was nothing left to do but wait for it to be over and then, once again, reconsider the appointment.  Honestly, there’s no one better to see.  Honestly, this is a part of unschooling.  Honestly, it sucks.

Well.  The truth is that there is just nothing I can do at this point.  Nothing.  Freaking out about it does nothing for me but drag me down and make things worse.  Deep breath.  Let it go.  Be where I am, regardless of if I like or not.  I don’t like it.  I’m a part of it.  I don’t like it.  I am a part of it.  Deep breath.

So, after these appointments, I let my kids do something they want to do.  They always want to go to a gnarly Super Mart and look at toys.  LOOK at toys, mind you.  They don’t want to buy, just look. Interesting.  While I’m grateful to not be spending money there, the fact that I am there makes me go crazy.  I was there.  I was a part of it.  I didn’t like it.  I was there.  I was breathing.  I was, and am a part of it and, I was, and am okay.

Eventually I made it home.   I sat in my favorite seat.  Took a breath.  Felt my lovely dog lay on my feet.  I took another breath.  I made dinner.  I took another breath.  I served dinner.  I took a breath. I am okay.  I am a part of it.  I am it.  I am one with it.  I am okay.

I  did what I always do when I need to unwind.  I poured a glass of red wine and painted my toenails.  Today they are sparkly iridescent purple.  They make me so happy!  I am a part of it.  I am breathing.  I am MORE than okay.

We cannot control what comes our way.  We cannot even control what we feel about it.  BUT.  We can control our breath.  We can control our need to control.  We can open our hearts.  We can survive super marts.  We can let go.  And we can realize that sometimes all we need is sparkle toes and a deep breath.

Namaste