Frances Whiting: Why I hate yoga

It’s popular, trendy and beneficial for our bodies but Frances Whiting finds why she finds yoga “so damn boring”.

I hate yoga.

There, I’ve said it, and I don’t care. Yes I know it’s good for me, yes I know it will calm my

anxious thoughts, and yes I know if I do it enough it will give me the sort of body that could

have its own instagram account, but I just find it so damn boring.

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And I cannot even begin to recount the horror that is hot yoga, which I have also tried and is

akin to being locked in a sauna with 100 other sweaty women, with one of them insisting on

adding more water to the hot rocks every five minutes #neveragain.

I also know that someone is going to write and tell me that the things I hate doing the most

are, in fact, the very things I need the most, and the things that will teach me the most life

lessons about myself.

This is also, by the way, what these people say about terrible relationships.

When some poor woman lies sobbing about the bad boy who’s broken their heart again,

there is always that one person who can be counted on to say “Oh, but don’t you see, it’s

made you so much stronger! You had to walk through the fire to become what you are

today. You’ve gained so much from this experience.”

Frances Whiting shares the downsides of yoga.

No you haven’t, what you’ve gained is 15 kilos, and a possible drinking problem.

When I do yoga, I am rendered almost frozen by the sensation of time slowing…

”Now, let’s just stretch our arms out in the warrior pose, and breathe. Breathe in…and out.

And in…and out. Do not think about anything else but your breath, notice the inhalation,

then the exhalation, and perhaps even make a little sound as you exhale, like this… Aaaaaah.

I cannot “Aaaaaah”. This is because I am too self-conscious, and while I truly wish I could be

one of those women who can let out a sound akin to an elephant bellowing while giving

birth, I cannot. My “Aaaaaah” is more like the sound it makes when you pop a little bit of

bubble wrap.

I am also not thinking about my breath, because my arms are hurting from being suspended

in mid-air for so long.

What I am thinking is something like this “I like those yoga pants the

lady in front of me is wearing, I wonder where she got them? She seems nice, oh God I wish I could move my arm, but I don’t want to be the first one to do it. Have I got time to do the

grocery shopping before I go home? Gosh Reece Witherspoon is clever”.

Now I have loads of friends who do yoga, and love it, so I’m not saying it’s boring for

everyone, it’s just boring for me, and the thing is I’m on the lookout for a class I might enjoy.

Preferably one with really good music, not too many difficult steps or routines to follow, one

with like-minded people and perhaps a bit of laughter thrown in.

Wait a minute, I’ve just realised I don’t actually want to do an exercise class, what I want to

is travel back in time to the eighties.