Dear You, I was having a great day until you called.
I was walking my two dogs this afternoon when I caught a glance of a note on the windshield of a parked car. The note was written on yellow-lined notepad paper, the kind I used to scribble call notes on when I worked in sales. It was folded so that the writing was visible, so [...]
Doesn't it suck that we spend most our time in temperature-controlled bubbles? It bums me out, but hey, this is our future because we've completely destroyed, and continue to destroy the earth.
The first time I set foot in a yoga studio I regretted it immediately. It was 6 a.m. on a weekday (already a bad idea) in Santa Monica (oof), and I was about to begin my first hot yoga class (double oof). The room was filled with lithe white girls wearing Lululemon, and there I was, in Target athleisure, with a Pilates mat to boot. The feeling was nothing new, I'm used to being the only brown girl in white spaces. It usually doesn't bother me, but I was already feeling insecure and out of place, and the white gaze only heightened those feelings. I don't think this yoga thing is going to be for me, I thought.