But not haha.
Look. I like living in my bubble where the world is hilarious. (It is!) Where I can discuss the real-life (?) implications of being Dolly Parton with my friends. (We want to know her tailor…) Where a trip to the laundromat involves checking my warranty on electronics (the fun kind ;)) and apologizing to parents. WHOOPS. (And, true story!!) Where strangers become revelations. I like my bubble because it makes sense to me. Or, just makes me laugh. And, if not, I have the yoga.
Yoga— where it is NOT about the poses, or marketing, or buns.
Still, every now and then things do enter and disrupt my bubble… I DO live in the US circa now.
Truth. I begrudgingly call myself a yoga teacher (– unless I’m with the frat boys. That’s TOO hilarious!) Because we are all teachers. Especially our resistance. Realistically, I feel like mostly all I do is I facilitate. And, be inspired. I go to the studio and I WITNESS people taking care of themselves. Sometimes I tell a story. There is usually touch too. And, we rest. It’s kinda the best job ever.
So what is this supposed to teach me?!!!
Exhale. EXHALE. exhale….
You are my teacher equinox (porny objectified yoga girl). I’m just not sure what I learned…
Lame. Lame. And, WRONG.
That’s NOT yoga.
And, p.s. marketing mavens– My friends surveyed do not know what this is selling… Not that it seemed to matter! Hmpf :(.
Teacher: Resistance is futile?
Not buying that either…
Resistance is MY teacher.
So, here goes: Yes. I do not like the sexualization of women. Moreover, I especially do not like the sexualization of women when they are doing something that I personally find cathartic, self-affirming, and nurturing. Not one bit.
Now, here’s where it gets nuanced. I will admit that I do not know this woman in the ‘film’ nor do I know her intentions. I will also admit that I love femininity. I respect my body. And, I have even been known to enjoy yoga in my skivies. In the privacy of my own space. Frankly, tactile experiences, sexuality, strength, flow– flight even– are not things I believe we should shy away from. Not ever. Not when we can relish in what we can do. Feel. Conquer. Enjoy.
Is that what is going on buttock close-up?!! (You– dear butt– do seem as much the subject as our strong yogini.) The crux it seems, is not even the yoga practitioner (did she have a voice?), but the lens we’re looking through upon her. It’s a CREEPY lens. Dear butt– you belong to a strong, fierce woman (you’d have to be doing such rad stuff!), but that ogle view you’re working with is not empowering. Not one bit.
At least not to me.
You– dear butt– can do better. We all can! What happened to a pun and a :). Or, another ecard!
Funny how that works…
And, also, what a strange way to sell a gym!! Funny really. And, not in the haha way…
Still, we get to pick. And, if I’m going to
be part of notice this yoga marketing brew-ha-ha (technical term) that runs parallel to the lovely practice call yoga, she wins. This is a happy part of the bubble!: