The Blog Formerly Known As Practical Paralegalism
I am on a long overdue vacation, enjoying a school fall break with my youngest daughter. Our plan is to sleep late, read novels and eat bonbons. So I thought I would give my blog an injection of humor today. The paralegal profession is by nature high stress. Learning to laugh at myself helps me offset the perfectionist meets obsessive compulsive disorder aspect of my personality. (One attorney I worked for nicknamed me “PH” for “Perfectionist from Hell”).
I have been exploring ways to relieve stress, hoping to become a better person and a more relaxed paralegal. I like to exhaust my job stress by running or taking Zumba classes. Trust me, my family will tell you that I am much nicer after these activities, full of warm fuzzy endorphins.
Recently, I tried yoga, hoping to find that inner peace that seems to be missing in a fast-paced litigation practice. I will admit that I am 45 years old and have never taken a yoga class. I never even watched yoga on TV.
All I knew about yoga was that TMZ made fun of Vince Vaughn when Jennifer Aniston dragged him to yoga classes. I decided to go to BEGINNING YOGA because it was the only class offered at the Y after work that I thought would fit my BEGINNING BODY schedule.
Listen, people, yoga may look peaceful, but honestly, it requires a lot of silent screaming to get to inner peace. I did not know the names of any of the positions and was therefore quite flummoxed when asked to assume something called the “Peaceful Puppy” or maybe it was the “Bad Dog.” I did love the “Happy Baby” and anything that allowed me to writhe around on the floor in pain.
I even came up with a few position names of my own, including:
Crooked Yard Art Flamingo
Body Part Screaming That Was Always Silent Before
My Body Don’t Play Dat
Why Am I the Only One Giggling?
Clipped Turkey Wing
Praying for Mercy
Oops T-Shirt Too Low-cut for Yoga
Just Kill Me Now
At the end of the class, I lay flat on my mat, in touch with parts of my body I had never experienced before, including some wickedly painful teeny little muscles right behind my ankle bones. But I felt oddly serene and weirdly happy, flashing back to memories of those refreshing mat naps in kindergarten.
So I am going back, determined to straighten up my flamingo and dress more appropriately. If Vince can do it, so can I.