Sounds like a perfectly nice idea, right? We’re all too busy to exercise, too stressed to function, desperately in need of a sun salutation. So why not a yoga class right here in the office?
Me, I’m still on maternity leave, so I don’t have to respond to the friendly e-mails inviting one and all to join in. But I’ll be frank. I don’t want to mix work and namaste. If I’m going to do a downward dog, the last thing I need is a colleague five inches from my upended butt. I don’t even want people I work with to see my feet. Why would I want them eyeballing my post-pregnancy back fat?
Thanks, but no thanks. Stretch away, Time magazine. I’m heading to the gym.
