I’ve always avoided yoga. I think it has something to do with my contrary nature. I never saw “Titanic,” I’ve never watched “American Idol,” and I never read The Nanny Diaries. Why? Simply because everybody else was doing it. Now, this hasn’t stopped me from getting contacts, watching other reality talent shows, or doing a whole host of other popular things. But I never claimed to be consistent.

Anyway, yoga has been one of those “popular” thing that I’ve avoided. It seemed more like something a contortionist or a soccar mom would do than something I would do. Pilates, fine. Ballet, fine. But somehow yoga – not so much.

Well, a bunch of people in a couple of departments at work have arranged to have the local yoga studio host a class for us over the lunch hour every Wednesday. Fighting all my urges to beg out of the group, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and forced myself to say, “Sure, I’d love to join you. Count me in.”

Yesterday was my first class, and I gotta say, it was pretty nice. Today I’m feeling muscles that I haven’t felt in years. I had no idea that an hour of yoga could work so many different muscles so completely without once forcing them to “feel the burn” during the workout.

I’m sold. Maybe this means that “Titanic” and The Nanny Diaries were pretty good too.