We’ve opposed it, but tights continue to be viewed as pants by many. And, last spring, jeans fused with leggings to become “jeggings.” Now, exercise apparel company Athleta is trying to sell us on their Bettona Pant, “a yoga pant that thinks it’s a jean.” With a faux fly, rivets at the pockets, and contrast stitching, these pants have jean-like details but are made from a stretchy, sweat-wicking, breathable fabric with an antimicrobial finish. Sorry, but we don’t get it. Why can’t tights just be tights, and leggings just be leggings, and jeans just be jeans, and yoga pants just be yoga pants?! Can we stop combining clothes and trying to give them multiple functions? [Athleta]

NYMag.com sent a fearless reporter into the heart of yoga cutthroatism at the seventh annual Yoga Asana Competition in New York City. More than a few of The Frisky ladies are yoga devotees. Speaking for myself, I can’t do anything like what these people are doing here—or, like, I can do it, but not as good as they do it. Either way, I sure can’t put my feet behind my head—that is, not yet. Probably, if I could, I’d get more dates. Anyway, I dig yoga, but Amelia and I agree this looks an awful lot like a bodybuilding competition or a beauty pageant—only more pretzel-ific. [NYMag.com]

Let’s get one thing straight: I am not an “exercise person.” In fact, if I was dating some smart, hilarious, darling and hot dude who was otherwise perfect but had a penchant for enthusing about his early morning gym regimen, I probably wouldn’t call him again. Overtly healthy people annoy me, maybe because they have an irksome way of making me feel guilty that my favorite leisure activities involve a glass of wine and a Parliament Light. OK, OK, I wasn’t always exactly a lazy slouch: I was a serious ballet dancer until the age of 18, and I ran and practiced some yoga in college. But since moving to New York almost a decade ago, let’s just say my workout history can best be summed up as “slightly cloudy with a chance of pizza.”

So how the hell did I become the kind of person who is highly optimistic about doing one of those disturbing-sounding hot yoga for 30 days challenges?

When I was in college, I fancied myself very enlightened with my five-day-a-week yoga practice, my lotus flower tattoo, and my tattered copy of the Daoist text Zen Mind, Beginner Mind. Post-college, I experimented even more with New Age spirituality. There were Indian sweat lodges, psychic vortex tours, aura pendulum readings, natal chart mappings, and Sanskrit chanting sessions. Before you giggle, I will be the first to admit that, in retrospect, I was a bit misguided in my pursuits. What I didn’t know at the time was that I was desperately searching for my purpose in life. Once I had more of a clue about what my actual purpose was, the luster of New Age activities wore off for me. I wanted to spend more time gazing into the eyes of fellow human beings than at my own navel. Not that I discredit the knowledge gained from these experiences—hey, I still make time for yoga once a week and I would totally go to that sweat lodge again because it was crazy cool. I just now understand that engaging in New Age rituals doesn’t make you any more enlightened. Feeling secure with your place in the world does.

This is, by far, one of the creepiest videos I have ever seen. There are so many weird things about it, I don’t even know where to start. But I’d like to say that the guy’s jeans are so tight I’m surprised he can do yoga at all, let alone put his head between his legs and turn into a chicken. Also, is it just me or is there something vaguely perverted about this whole thing?

Last weekend, a festival called “Wanderlust” rocked the beautiful hills of Lake Tahoe, California. This festival combines sweet musicians like Andrew Bird, Girl Talk, Broken Social Scene, and Jenny Lewis with yoga classes taught by pros. Sadly we missed it, but we still think that’s a pretty sweet combo. [WanderlustFestival.com]

Here are some festivals we want to check out, plus a few that we wish existed.

I was walking by my local Lucky Jeans boutique today on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, when I spotted this peculiar sign outside: “Free Week of Yoga When You Purchase 2 Tanks for $30.” It’s a bit of a random promotion that kind of reminded me of Michael Moore getting a free gun when he opened a bank account in “Bowling for Columbine.” Then again, while yoga/Lucky Jeans might seem a bit incongruous, it’s kind of a genius idea: Lucky ropes in a new clientele and offers a temporary alternative for the money-sucking yoga clothing industry. Especially here in the Big Apple, where New York magazine recently pointed out that the brand Lululemon has captured the city’s wallets and turned yoga into “a spectator sport” through “must-have” $98 stretchy pants. [NY Mag]

Chi feeling totally out of whack but you don’t have the cash to get that thing realigned at a fancy yoga retreat? (Clearly we have no idea what Chi actually is and have confused it with your spine.) Well today’s your lucky day because a few yogi-friendly meccas are making spiritual vacays a little more accessible. Enlightenment and free exercise awaits, after the jump!

The nose has been making news recently. First, nose waxing becomes trendy. And now, we’ve learned that nose flossing is a part of some people’s daily hygiene routine. Rubber Neti is an ancient yogic technique in which a piece of string or tubing is inserted into a nostril, pulled through the mouth, and then both ends are pulled in a back and forth flossing motion. Many Indians believe that Rubber Neti keeps the common cold, cough, and asthma at bay and the nasal passages clear and clean. This definitely looks strange and probably tastes odd. Most adults don’t like to eat the contents of their nasal passages. But I’m willing to try anything to combat my asthma. [Reuters]

A study published in The Journal of Sexual Medicine reports that sexually unsatisfied women who practiced mindfulness and yoga reported improved levels of arousal and desire, as well as better orgasms. Why not try following along with a yoga podcast today? It could have you saying “om” all night long. [LiveScience]

This week, The Frisky will be revealing their oh-so-ambitious resolutions for 2009. We encourage you to submit yours in the comments—maybe you’ll inspire others to adapt the same resolutions and at the very least you’ll get some support. Especially for your resolution to eat more donuts this year. That’s something we can all get behind. Amelia will start…

1. Commit to going to yoga three times a week: And at the very least, getting into headstand. Forearm stand, I will tackle you in 2010. Handstand, see you in 2011.
2. Introduce myself to new music: And go to see more bands play live. I used to love doing this, but have stopped going on a regular basis. And I need some Ladyhawke and Little Joy to balance out all the Beyonce and Britney.
3. Curb bad behaviors: My bad behaviors are drinking too much wine and then eating copious amounts of mac ‘n’ cheese while sending regrettable Facebook messages. Must stop this in 2009.

Sometimes when I’m in my hippie-dippy yoga classes I think that some of what I’m hearing is a load of hooey. A couple weeks ago, the teacher in my class (who happens to be, not to brag, I swear, Uma Thurman’s brother) was talking about how we store emotional issues and trauma in our body and that’s why we’re not as flexible as we could be. So, like, when you can’t do a split, it’s not because your body isn’t capable, it’s because you haven’t worked through certain issues yet in your yoga practice. I thought that sounded like crap. Well, today I read an article about how humans store emotional trauma in their hip joints and that yoga can help relieve that trauma, resulting in the potential to totally bawl your eyes out when you’re doing a Warrior pose, or whatever. That’s why it’s recommended that Iraq war veterans take yoga classes. Crazy huh? This is the last time I shall ever question Uma’s brother again. [Star-Telegram.com]

If you’re a lazy yogi like me, now you can get your asana on from home, while reading Perez Hilton. An NYC yoga instructor put together a yoga practice specifically for the bubble-butted gossip slag and then posted it on YouTube. [YouTube]

I’m a sporadic yoga doer. When I do tend to go is on the weekends, after I’ve lazily slept, digested an omelet, and read Page Six magazine. But sometimes I want to go on the fly, like after work, or when I happen to be near my yoga studio (i.e. I’m shopping at Forever 21 and the studio is around the corner). But I usually can’t go spur of the moment because I don’t have my mat on me and I despise paying $2 bucks to rent one. But the yoga paws will stop me from having lame, pathetic excuses for not working out and getting touch with my inner goddess! They are basically gloves for your hands and feet that have mat-like padding on them, so you can do yoga without a mat without slipping and sliding around. Honestly, I may toss my mat permanently after I buy these, because it was getting stinky anyhow. Namaste! [Yoga Paws, $34.95: Spoon Sisters via I Heart Luxe]