If you’ve ever thought yoga wasn’t for you — too stiff, too busy, too sceptical — I used to think that too. This is the story of how I went from total Un-Yogi to someone who rolls out the mat almost every day… and why I believe you can begin (or begin again) this January.

Before Yoga: The Unlikely Un-Yogi

Before yoga really entered my life, I was all about movement — fitness instructor, IT trainer, dancer at heart. Movement was the fun bit, the reward, not some grand act of self-care. I was cardio fit, had lost much of the natural flexibility I was born with, and I was definitely overweight.

Yoga, in my mind, belonged to a very specific tribe: thin, flexible, plant-based, gliding around in coordinated outfits radiating calm.
That was not me.

I was irreverent, loud, spider-phobic — the person who would cry if a bird pooped on my jacket and then retell it for laughs later.

The First Class: Chaos & Comedy

Before the home practice and the 30-day challenges came The First Class. I only went because Sash insisted; left to my own devices, I would have happily remained on the safe side of the studio doors forever.

I’d just taught five fitness classes back-to-back and assumed yoga would be a gentle cool-down.

Spoiler: it was not.

The room felt like I’d wandered into a live broadcast of Calm and Collected Weekly. Everyone moved in unison — serene faces, smooth transitions, matching Lycra. I, meanwhile, was like a buffering video: stop-start, glitching, collapsing into giggles with Sash every time we toppled over.

And every time we were asked to lower from plank “with control,” I performed the same move: the full-body crash.

If you’ve ever wobbled, toppled, or felt like everyone else got the memo — you are my people.

Lockdown & the Birth of Routine

My real introduction to consistent practice came later, during lockdown. Sash, her little brother Hamish, and I started doing “Yogalates” at home. I didn’t fall in love with Yogalates itself, but I did love the routine, the shared commitment, and the tiny sense of structure in the otherwise blurry lockdown days.

The real spark, though, came afterwards when Sash completed three full 30-day yoga challenges back-to-back with Adriene. Watching the shift in her mood, her resilience, her emotional steadiness made me curious.
If yoga could do that for her, what might it do for me?

30 Days That Changed Everything

So I signed up for my own 30-day challenge.

I practised in the front room — now my studio, then a maze of sofas and side tables — with my mat squeezed between bits of furniture. The practices were recorded, which meant no improvising. I had to show up and follow what was there.

For the first couple of challenges, my heart would sink when I saw a long video and leap when it was under 30 minutes. Not very zen — but very honest.

I realised I genuinely liked yoga the day I stopped checking the video length and simply rolled out the mat.

When Yoga Quietly Became a Habit

Most of this phase happened at home, just me and the screen. No one saw the wobbles, the creative interpretations of “step to the top of the mat,” or the pauses where I renegotiated with my hamstrings.

After about three months of showing up almost every day, I took a short break between challenges — and felt restless, itchy, like something important was missing.
That was the moment I realised yoga had quietly become a habit my body expected.

I began exploring more videos, more teachers, more ways to breathe and move.

From Student to Teacher

The shift toward teaching happened gradually.

My original dream was to offer yoga as a toolkit for young people like Sash — something practical to help with anxiety, overwhelm, self-harm, and the messy realities of being human.

But adults were already showing up to my classes at work, and I discovered I enjoyed teaching them more than I expected. A friend gently nudged me to start my own class, and eventually I did.

Standing at the front of that first room, I made a promise:
I would never pretend to be the stereotype. I would teach as myself — irreverent, honest, wobbly where I am wobbly, and committed to making yoga feel like it belongs to everyone in the room.

Why My Wobbly Body Belongs in Yoga

When the idea of teaching crept in, a sharp voice whispered:
“Who on earth is going to pay to watch you wobbling around?”

It stung — but another voice responded:
“Maybe that’s exactly what the yoga world needs.”

Not more flawless shapes.
Not more performative stillness.
But real humans.

Yoga needs older people.
Yoga needs bigger bodies.
Yoga needs meat-eaters, eye-rollers, sceptics, fidgeters, peri-menopausal women, stiff-as-a-board men, anyone with a heartbeat and a desire for steadiness.

If I had only ever seen one type of yoga body, I would never have believed yoga was for me. So perhaps my imperfect body had a purpose after all.

Yoga for Real Life, Not Perfect Shapes

Over time, yoga quietly rewired things I didn’t realise needed attention.

My breath — once something that only mattered during an asthma attack — became a tool. I began to feel where I held tension, where I was wide open, where I avoided feeling anything at all.

Five years earlier, poses like Chaturanga, Crow, or inversions felt as likely as joining Cirque du Soleil. But time and repetition changed things. I felt stronger, steadier, and more at home in my body than I ever had in my “fit but disconnected” days.

Students often tell me they appreciate that I “make it real.” There is room for laughter, for falling over, for menopause, grief, stress, tight hamstrings, extra weight, mismatched leggings — real life.

Yoga, to me, isn’t about how it looks. It’s about what it lets you notice and gently shift. What happens on the mat often mirrors what happens in life:
Do you push? Avoid? Freeze? Fidget? Give up? Get curious?

Why YOU Can Begin (Or Begin Again)

The myth that yoga is only for the flexible, the spiritual, or the already-zen still stops so many people before they begin.

But here’s the truth:
If you have a body and a mind, you qualify.

You don’t need to be thin, young, plant-based, or blissed-out.
You just need a little curiosity and the willingness to start exactly where you are, with the body and the life you have right now.

If you see any part of yourself in this story — too stiff, too busy, too sceptical, too “not-yoga-enough” — please know you are exactly the kind of person yoga can serve.

Your first step doesn’t need to be dramatic. It might be five minutes of stretching in your pyjamas or one short online video with the camera proudly off.

Join Me for the Begin, Begin Again 30-Day Yoga Reset — January 2026

If you’re craving structure, steadiness, accountability, or simply a gentle way to begin the year in your body instead of your head, I’d love you to join me.

The “Begin, Begin Again” Yoga Reset is:

• 30 days of simple, accessible, compassionate yoga

• Designed for real-life humans with real-life bodies

• Built around foundations, repetition, and consistency

• Supportive, encouraging, and judgement-free

• A chance to rebuild connection and trust with yourself

Roll out your mat.
Begin where you are.
Let the practice meet you there — and let consistency work its quiet magic.

Yoga changed my life not because I was good at it, but because I kept showing up.
So can you.