I just ironed my yoga pants.

I just ironed my yoga pants.

I kid you not.  Getting ready for yoga class, I noticed an unacceptable number of wrinkles in my stretchy workout pants.  You didn't know that wrinkles were unacceptable in workout pants?

I stood there for a moment."Seriously, Carrie?"  I asked myself.  "Seriously? Ironing yoga pants.  Don't you think that's a bit much?"  And then I laughed because I felt something stir at my core.  "Yup," I said to myself, "seriously."  I am simply being me, despite the fun that others might poke at this little ritual (and by that, yes, I mean my husband).  I'm just being me.  

I had never consciously thought of it before, but as I stood at the ironing board, I realized that that I have an overwhelming desire to present myself as perfectly as I possibly can in all situations.  Yes, even at the gym, in a yoga class.  I blame (and love) my parents for instilling this neuroses trait in me.

Now, off to Downward Dog in my perfectly pressed pants. Namaste.