It happened: my life has changed

There is a tiny moment in your life when you realise something important out of the blue: it’s called epiphany.

Mine arrived yesterday as I found myself in my living room jumping up and down to inflate a pink yoga ball. The colour is important because I HATE pink. Maybe hate is a feeling too strong for a colour, but I genuinely dislike it, especially in that girly bright shade I associate with Barbie.

This pink: 

Yet it appears that all my gym kit components are pink: women fitness clothing and sale are clearing responsible for this tragedy 😉

Back to the point: I was sad as my yoga class was cancelled so on my way home I decided I was gonna do anyway few sun salutation.

“I own a yoga mat and I have nothing to do” – first bell ringing: myself one year ago would just turn the TV on if she’d found some free time on my hand.

Home: it’s warm and the sofa is there tempting me. Nothing. I just get changed into comfortable trousers.

Suddenly I found myself on the floor.

No, I didn’t faint.

I just remembered I bought a yoga ball when I moved into my flat and that I stored it under the bed, somewhere.

I open the packet excited as it was a surprise (well was kind of it), light in my eyes. The pump was there, fine, and underneath there it was:


a PINK rubber surface looking like a flattened balloon… 

Twenty minutes, few fights with the pump and few lost balances later I did it: I had my yogaball ready!


Satisfied and pleased I began my practice and while I was with my legs up the wall it struck me:

  • the 29 year old Elena would have never done it without a teacher or an app telling her what to do and would have felt awkward and fatigued
  • the 28 year old leaving in Italy Elena would have never ever picked up yoga nor left herself the time to be mindful

Brighton changed me and gave me the gift of precious free time.

Yoga changed the way I related to my body and my time. And I feel blessed and lucky 🍀 

My Favourite Flight Safety Instructions

As woman I struggled all my life to accept my body as it is: I’m not Barbie, I’m not a top model and I’m definitely far from perfect.

But this post is not about being perfect. It is about the surprise I had on my flight back to the UK.

It was a cold evening following a very long two weeks and I was tired, sitting bored in the plane waiting to depart so I could finally go home to my beloved bed. The large and loud Italian group sitting next to me already drove me crazy, so I moved my attention to the safety instruction sheet in front of me.

Same old, same old… Oh my!

That was my thread of thoughts, honestly! The blond cartoonish woman has hips, a bit of a belly and thighs: it could be me!


Well, a part of me not being blonde and a not so curvy… but I could have been me! For one of the few times in my life I could identify myself with a drawing: it resembled real life!

Thanks Norwegian for having a realistic and not shaming female body shape in your safety instructions.

It was heart warming.