It is Day Three of my personal transformation. The initial optimism and enthusiasm dissipated sometime Wednesday afternoon. Every waking moment now is a mighty battle of wills; the nagging thought keeps tapping on my brain: “Just do it! Once! For a moment! Will it really make a difference?” I’ve almost given in a couple times, I must confess. It would feel so good. And it couldn’t really hurt anything, could it? Really?
Like a former smoker who keeps reaching for the invisible pack of cigarettes, at moments unaware my knees gravitate toward each other and the right one instinctively tries to sling itself over the left. Usually I catch myself midway through. Sometimes, though, I don’t. And for that brief moment before awareness catches up to instinct, I am happy. My knees are crossed; my posture relaxed. Endorphins flood my body: utter bliss.
But then I realize what I’ve done. I un-cross my legs and plant both feet firmly on the ground, shoulder-width apart, just like I’ve been instructed. I sit up a bit straighter, leaning slightly forward to encourage Hoopling into the all-important head down position. It’s not comfortable; it feels unnatural.
It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
PS> Are you proud of me for writing this whole post without making the obvious “well clearly I’ve un-crossed my legs at some point” jokes? You should be.
PPS> Sorry, Mom.