Day 14 Sweaty Naked Boys
So a few weeks ago, three young guys tried out a yoga class. You could tell they thought it was a joke; they swaggered into the studio like hockey players, all ripped and cocky, naked but for their under-armours, all “look at me” and “yeah, baby, enjoy the show.” Those of us with a few classes under our belts just smiled in anticipation.
For the record, black under-armours aren’t a completely bad idea. Black just gets blacker when it’s wet. Someone should have warned the guy in white, however.
I adjusted my position so I had a clear view in the mirror. There was gonna be a show, alright.
Within minutes, the pretty naked-boys weren’t smiling quite so hard. They realized that all these middle-aged people were actually fit, and knew how to do stuff that, gosh, was harder than it looked. And geez, it was HOT.
Before long, they weren’t smiling at all. In fact, they looked nauseated and wobbly. White under-armour guy suddenly realized that he was, for all intents and purposes, naked, and didn’t appear too thrilled about it.
By the end of the class, they were all collapsed on their towels, limp and gasping. When it went from interesting to slightly worrisome, to embarrassing, I stopped watching. I didn’t want to bear witness to any stains appearing on those tighty-whities.
The naked-boys haven’t been back. They’re welcome, though. As soon as they’re ready for a real work-out with real hotties.
Day 13 Okay, I’ve got space issues
So today my practice was easy, straight-forward and relatively pain-free. Didn’t feel the heat, balance was good, endurance was strong, my limbs loose and flexible. Just goes to show how different one day can be from the other. Or maybe it was the Naproxen last night.
However, a few thoughtless yogis made my practice less than optimal today. (When I say thoughtless, I mean stupid and wrong.)
For newbies, keep the following etiquette in mind:
1. Keep your mat in line with the ones beside you. It’s not difficult. There’s lines on the floor. Don’t think “maybe I’ll just stagger mine down a bit.” It’s like taking two parking spaces. Someone might key you. Someone should key you.
2. Look in the mirror at the people behind you; if you’re directly in front of them, move sideways, so they can see themselves in the mirror. Maybe you think you’re doing them a favour, but they might actually want to watch themselves instead of your ass.
3. Don’t blow y0ur nose into your towel.
4. Don’t be so oblivious to the person behind you that you kick them in the head. Which probably wouldn’t have happened had you parked in your proper space.
5. Whenever possible, don’t grunt or moan or fart or even talk. (That’s why the sign says NO TALKING outside the studio door. Geez.)
6. Leave the class quietly at the end, ie: don’t thunder about like a stunned giraffe. It ruffles the centers of those of us in our final savasana.
7. And finally, brush your teeth before class. And maybe lay off the garlic the night before or whatever you ate that makes you smell dead. (FYI perfume only makes it worse.) Oh and here’s a thought: maybe I wouldn’t be able to smell you, no matter what you’d rolled in, ?if you’d parked your mat in the PROPER SPACE.
Namaste.
Day 11 Is there yoga after dentistry?
After the usual school run this morning, my day started with a trip to the lab for some routine blood tests. I had a dental appointment at 9 am, and I figured I might as well do all the unpleasant tasks on the same day.
I hadn’t really thought that through. I’m totally stoic for blood draws – I can and have taken my own blood, which freaks my husband out. He thinks this means I’m likely to become a heroin addict. (Which is ridiculous. I can’t afford heroin.) I am, however, phobic about dental work.
I had to skip breakfast for the bloodwork, which would have been okay, but for the dentistry. This wasn’t a big 2.5 hour appointment, like I had a couple of weeks ago and for which I was mildly, but very happily, sedated; this was simply replacing the temporary crown with the permanent. Easy-peasy, right? Except that the temp didn’t pop off the way it was supposed to. Mike, my dentist, got in there with both hands. Nothing. He got out the dental crowbar. Nothing. “Hm. I’ll have to cut it off,” said Mike. “This might be a little… dusty.” A really nice guy, Mike. I always feel bad for hating to see him.
I squeezed my eyes shut, imagining a miniature jackhammer crossed with a circular saw. The sounds and the smell were entirely real, unfortunately, and on an empty and – worse – caffeine-free stomach, resulted in burgeoning panic. I think perhaps I was also missing those four vials of blood they took from me earlier.
Finally that little temporary crown came off in splintering bits and pieces, one of which nearly flew down my throat. “Oops,” said Mike, neatly vacuuming it up, then pulling the suction device off my frozen tongue. “Oh, I guess that’s not what you want to hear from your dentist, is it?”
No, Mike, it’s really not. Of course, I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t do anything but practice my pranayama breathing, which I wish I could say was more helpful. My hands were clenched so tight, I’ve got neat little smiley faces all across my palms.
Then it was over. I mopped my face with that nice hot cloth, wobbled out to my car and drove home, very slowly and carefully. And then I crawled back into bed until noon.
I went to yoga later, oh yes, Virginia, there is yoga after dentistry. I did okay, until about half-way through the class, the last of the freezing suddenly disappeared. Ouch.