Mike Dariano


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I run with a certain crowd, those with nice looking hair, cars sporting window stickers, and athletic pants that would imply a lot of athleticism. I don’t think this is the case. It’s not that the stay-at-home mothers that I see aren’t fit, they mostly are. It’s that I never hear them talking about yoga. They talk about their haircuts, the things those car stickers represent, and the rainforest that sacrificed itself to provide paper for Friday crafts at school.

We talk about making dinner, doing chores, and what’s new at the public library or YMCA, but even in those conversations we never talk about yoga. I like yoga, I could imagine myself getting into yoga. After all this non-talk about yoga, I realized that yoga pants aren’t about doing yoga as much as they are about wearing pants.

One of the perks of being a stay at home parent is the uniform. If I wear jeans and anything buttoned I feel formal. Polo shirts and Levi’s are too fancy. It may not make sense, but for a long time I resisted this. I used to dress up when going to toddler story time at the library or taking my kids to the grocery store. I didn’t want to accept what yoga pants represented, whatever that was.

I thought wearing yoga pants was basically like wearing pajamas. The only difference being a bit of elastic material and a few less oatmeals stains. I was wrong because deep down inside, I wanted yoga pants.

I didn’t actually want yoga pants, but I wanted what they represented. A cool, casual, comfortable way to be good looking. If anyone asked about my yoga I could say, “I’m not yogaing today, I had a big yogi session yesterday.”

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