Yoga Writer

I hate yoga pants. I do. I feel self-conscious in them. I had a traumatic c-section where things weren’t put back together mindfully, and my belly will never be the same. Then I had another c-section. Some women come through their c-sections with just a cute little scar. Some with a ledge. My “ledge” shows in yoga pants. It feels intimate, and exposed. I make sure to wear a long-ish shirt when I wear yoga pants, in a futile effort to cover it up.

One time some of my students and I were talking before class. Four out of five of us had experienced c-sections. We shared stories. One woman said she’d had two c-sections, resulting in an “anchor.” One horizontal, one vertical scar. She won the prize that day. Anchors beat ledges, any day. What we women go through. Seriously.

Another friend hates yoga pants because she is self-conscious about her butt.

Tight fitting clothes are practical when doing yoga. A shirt that clings doesn’t fall “up” during downward facing dog. I wear the whole deal often enough when I practice in a studio, and sometimes when I teach, but really I prefer other things. Do men ever have to feel so sucked in and exposed? I mean, no one is stopping men of yoga from wearing yoga pants, but they aren’t required to. It isn’t the social norm. They don’t even have to wear a shirt!

Long nylon shorts have become a staple for me, for teaching. Hopefully my students don’t mind the swishing as I move throughout the room. Sometimes I wear loose linen pants.

But yoga pants aren’t my only first world yoga fashion problem.

Thanks to a car accident and subsequent neck injury I can no longer wear racer back tops. Racer back sports bras give me a swift headache within minutes.

So I do my own thing. My long shorts. My shell tops and t-shirts. I feel a combo of middle age invisible + total freedom and comfort.

I have my eye out for a yoga/athletic clothing line that would be pretty and functional AND not quite so naked but with pants painted on. It’s going to be a good day when I find it.