The Incident


Hands up MorphMoms, who loves Yoga?  I bet it's a safe assumption that a good number of you raised your hands (well, hopefully you didn't literally raise them, know I can't really see you, right?).  Welp, I love yoga too. But today was the first day in 2+ years that I took a class.  It's been 2+ years since "The Incident"...aka "The Day The Yoga Died" (for me at least).  I had signed a year membership with the "It" yoga studio at the time, of Highlands Ranch the previous day.  I walked in that evening ready to begin my new life as a Zen, calm, "take it in stride" woman.  I was going to come back to my family, changed...shining from within...loving them for who they were and blind to their inability to load the dishwasher, speak with out profanities, keep their stinking hands off each other, bathe. Ah, it seems like only yesterday...
I came in a bit early to get my bearings and to introduce myself as a "newbie" to the instructor.  My hope was that she would go easy on me if she knew it was my 1st time.  The studio was tiny, dimly lit and it appeared that I was alone in this funky space. Thankfully, I heard a toilet flush and presently observed the shape of a life-size lollipop emerge from the shadows. When it stepped into the light, I saw she was a he. From the neck down, he resembled an earthworm.
I don't recall his name or the formalities of the introduction.  All I take from the first encounter was shaking the sickeningly supple, waxily transparent, dead fish he offered me.
The class began without incident.  With every pose I felt my inner light burning brighter.  Zenning... Feng Shui fightin'...Waxing on, Waxing off... This was going to be the first day of the rest of my life.  We moved into our next pose. The reclining butterfly. If you don't know yoga, imagine sitting on your bottom. Make the soles of your feet touch with your knees pointing outward. Now lie back. All the way back. Head touching the floor, eyes gazing at ceiling, stretching the inner thighs as the soles of your feet  touch.  Oh it felt so good, so right.  As the soothing strains of chanting monks filled the room, Yogi Bob  hovered over each of his protégées helping them to achieve perfection of the pose.  I, if I did say so myself, was doing a stellar job holding the pose.  He was close now. To the left of me, he had his hands pressing downward on the inside knees of a clearly inflexible charity case.  My turn. I pretended to have my eyes closed, but through my squinted eyes I watched as he moved on to me. His palms facing down, outstretched and ready to administer the same  touch.  Through squinty eyes I watched him look down at me, then heard an almost inaudible gasp and "oh my" as he moved to the person on my right.  Mentally high-fiving myself for not needing correction, I held the pose until Yogi Bob released us. We had to slowly come up, looking down, rounding our backs. Doing as I was told, I began my ascent. Up,up,rounded back...looking down...ZIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPP!!!!! NEEDLE OFF THE RECORD!!!! SCREEEEEEEEEEEACHING HALT!!!!! OH....MY ....SWEET... BABY JEEEEEEEEEEEEEESUS...!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Looking down there was a vertical rip in my yoga pants. I had made a conscious decision to go without underwear earlier in the evening to allow more "freedom" and "feel" my stretches to get the most out of class. Subsequently, I gazed down at in absolute horror at the middle of my turquoise yoga pants.  I kept my composure. Thankfully, we were allowed to get water. I sauntered over to my water bottle and took a long, peaceful sip. Then, I got my purse and sauntered out the door.


I never returned to the studio. Never answered their calls inquiring about the Nike jacket with my name in it. Never made any attempt to get a refund on the 12 month membership I purchased with such high hopes only the day before.  "And them good ole' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye...the day the Yoga....died...


Today I took a yoga class at my gym. It was delightful.  I wore underwear and spanx underneath my crotch-reinforced running shorts. It was a good day for yoga. I'll work on my Zen tomorrow.

Li Wang