There’s a book by a writer named Geoff Dyer called “Yoga for People Who Can’t Be Bothered to Do It”. I haven’t read the book (it’s a sort of philosophical travel story), and I’m not even sure if it’s been released in New Zealand yet, but it has a fantastic title.

I was in Whitcoulls today randomly looking around when I came across a whole bookcase devoted to yoga books. They were all large sized book, with clean, minimal design. Most had a picture of a woman on the cover, stretched out in a leotard, hair pulled back in a clean, minimal bun.

In theory yoga seems really cool. All about stretching out like a cat, looking sexy, getting in touch with the spiritual dimension of the world and drinking herbal tea.

But in reality, yoga is a pain in the arse. No one starts out being all sleek and catlike. There’s wobbling and falling over. The yoga mat slips. There’s not enough clear floor space at home to practise. Getting up at 5.30 am to go to the yoga classes is annoying. And all that spiritual stuff is a little freaky.

Count me in as a person who can not be bothered to do yoga.

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