THE BLOG
12/10/2014 04:56 pm ET Updated Feb 09, 2015

Yoga Bare

It's not that the folks in one part of the country eat healthier than the others, but I come from a place in the South where if you slow down for a yellow light, we will deep fry your car. The county fair is just another excuse to bring in a tanker truck loaded with Crisco. We've done everything from Oreos to pickles. A slow-moving Volkswagen is not going to give us any trouble.

And the Captain of my Love Boat is always first in line for a new taste thrill.

So when the family doctor mentioned that the levels in the Captain's blood indicated that various, but highly important, internal organs could freeze up like Bill Gates' Windows, we were faced with the choice of updating his will or changing his diet.

As a final insult, Doc threw in the kicker, "You'll want to get some exercise every day. And I don't mean the kind you get pulling the release lever on the recliner." Tough words for a man who considers a stack of pancakes with bacon an appetizer.

For weeks the Captain hovered on the brink of starvation, mourning Famous Amos like they were twins parted at birth. But I checked the man's life insurance policy and decided that he's worth more in flesh than in funds. True love and a nice dose of greed conquer all things.

So in the name of health and insurance policies yet to come, I loaded up the Yoga program on the family game system and demonstrated the various poses. My downward dog looked more like a Labrador foraging for a spare French fry under the fridge than an example of a precision exercise technique, but sometimes you have to sacrifice style for the one you love.

Soon the Captain of my Dream Boat decided that since he is under doctor's orders to reduce his ballast, he can use exercise for an excuse to hold on to the remote, and he latched onto the Feng Shui of yoga and jumped on my workout bandwagon with both love handles.

The difference is that I wear clothes.

I'll spend my lunch hour at Wal-Mart coordinating my exercise mat with my stretch pants, but for this guy, comfort is king. I don't want to be indelicate, but he gives a whole new meaning to the term "sun salutation." It's enough to make you pray for an eclipse.

I rounded the corner into the living room just as he started another pose. There's not a swimsuit model alive that's assumed that position and made it to pay day.

"OH MY GOD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"I'm supposed to touch my toes."

"With what?"

He inhaled and I sucked in so hard I pulled the dirt out of the carpet. "Yoga is the ancient Eastern art of obtaining balance. To ensure your Yin and Yang complement each other."

"Well don't look now but you're about to get rug burn on your Yang."

"You don't appreciate the peace that comes from reaching the inner you."

About that time, Son Two came through the back door, happy in the knowledge that a math teacher with the flu gave him an extra video game hour in his day. This kid is 19, and he's so cool he sweats perma frost. At that moment he had achieved Nirvana and was one with a Klondike bar.

As usual, the cat came in with him, purring around his legs like they were from the same litter. I don't know if it has anything to do with the absence of a regular hygiene routine, but felines follow him around like he wears catnip skivvies.

There are times when it seems possible to stretch an instant like an overstuffed garbage bag, and more action than seems possible happens at once.

The Captain snapped into a position that caused his Yin and Yang to become one just as the Klondike bar in turn became one with the floor. My maternal superpowers kicked in and I flung the nearest article of covering, a tasseled blanket from the couch, over the offending object. (Not the ice cream bar.) This move was interpreted as an invitation by the kitty who, as the instinct of a thousand generations kicked in, sprang into action, claws in attack position, intent on consuming the dancing tassels.

In high school, I wasn't the type that dabbled in theoretics or quantam physicals. All I remember from my science class is a little rule that says, "For every action there is an opposite and equal reaction."

I didn't realize it gave felines the power to fly.

Everything that happened after that is a blur. But the phrase "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" keeps scrolling past my mind's eye. I guess sometimes it's better for Yin and Yang to have separate dressing rooms.

Hubby has since given up Yoga in favor of any sport that requires extra padding. And now we all have inner peace.

Especially the cat.