Yoga — LA Style

10 Oct
Image courtesy of Flicker user  istolethetv

Image courtesy of Flicker user istolethetv.

Until I moved to LA, my only experience with yoga took place at free classes that came with my LA Fitness membership in Pittsburgh. Why won’t lie — after a few classes I found myself to be pretty good. It’s probably worth mentioning that many of my classmates were overweight, middle-aged women, who probably used their gym membership for nothing beyond slow strolls on the treadmill. Whatever. Even with my (truthfully) sub-par yoga skills I was able to rock it out in free Pittsburgh yoga.

Fast forward to LA. I spent the first month we lived here whining that I wished the many trendy little studios in our neighborhood weren’t so pricey, while secretly scared to go anyway. Then my birthday rolls around and my husband presents me with a certificate for a month of free yoga at one of said trendy studios. Game on.

Yoga in LA

I won’t lie, I was pretty nervous for my first LA yoga class. I got dressed up in my finest yoga sweats, put some makeup on and headed out to meet the yogis of LaLa land.

The studio I go to is very LA. There’s a crazy expensive, yet totally cute, boutique in the reception room, then a couple of yoga studios off to the side. So far so good.

I walked into my “beginners yoga” class and it was H-O-T. I’m now three classes in and this is always the case, so I’m not sure if a hot yoga class goes on before mine, or if it’s just a way to weed out the weak. My second observation was the large amount of men in the class. In Pittsburgh, there were sometimes one or two super buff guys in class who were clearly shopping for women. Not the case in LA. These dudes were here for some serious planking — yoga style.

My first class started out with a loud “Oooommm.” I’m not going to lie, I found this odd. Even stranger when the class ended with one as well.

Thankfully, the rest of the class was pretty standard. No weird LA stuff. Actually I was pretty pleased that most of the poses were relatively simple. I went home and told my husband it was too easy and he suggested I go to the next level class. I considered it, then laughed. I’d rather excel in a beginners class, than risk being a dunce in a more advanced class any day. So judge me. Ooooommmm.

 

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