This morning, I woke up to the the reverb of Little A shrieking the lyrics to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star at the top of his lungs. Running into his room to make sure that he wasn’t trying to alert me of his gruesome kidnapping I stepping into what could only best be described as a night at Cirque Du Soleil in Vegas.
There he was – contorted into some upside down position, shaking his tush and singing, no, shrieking, the words to the song.
I suppose it was the only way fate could tell me it was going to be one of those days.
I gratefully dropped him off to day care, full well knowing that he was now their problem and got ready for my hot yoga class. It’s one of the comforts of routine, you know where to go and who you’re going to see. In today’s case, yoga class was going to be taught by a gorgeous blond named Mel.
Like every weekday, I was ready to follow the step by step instructions to my day – stride into the studio, share small talk with K ( the receptionist) while taking off my boots, scurry to the locker room then zen-ly float into the practice area.
Today was different.
I stumbled into the studio, had nothing to say to K, bumped my head on the locker room door – but did manage to float into the hot room. Calmly placing my bottle of water and towel on the heated floor, I slowly unrolled my mat as quietly as humanly possible. The room was scattered with several others – mainly women with the one or two men, who were trying to meditate. I, too, joined them and lay there on my back with closed eyes trying to emanate to the group that I too, had the ability to mediate. Which is a big fat lie – because my mind would never ever opt to stop thinking, even for a few seconds.
As if on cue, the hot room door slid open and the lights started to dim. Then the all too loud shriek of what was deemed to be calming music blared through the subtly placed speakers. The tune was a mix of Beethoven meets clown music with a ridiculously annoying flute melody playing on top.
I tried my best to will it to stop with my mind.
You can guess how that turned out.
A few minutes later, still nestled in my personal auditory torture chamber, a man purposefully walked in. I say purposefully, because people that walk that way are usually in charge of the class and unless Mel got a sex change, she was not teaching today.
Just to note, I don’t mind male teachers, who are also usually incredible, I was more miffed about the plot twist the world was tossing my way.
A wave of women started to prop themselves on their forearms and gape at the eye candy.
Because he was beautiful and perfectly chiseled.
“Good afternoon everyone, welcome to your noon hot flow. Today we’re going to have a bit of an unconventional practise.”
What does that even mean?
I rested my head back on the mat – because I apparently was also one of the masses who had raised my head to check out the goods. He opened a drawer in the corner of the room and pulled out handful of harnesses.
Then “purposefully” placed one next to each body.
One of the guys in class turned to look at me with an exasperated questioning expression. I shrugged and turned away.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to avoid any sort of contact with the man that was going to make me do the unthinkable.
I started chanting my mantra in a barely audible voice, ” I should have stayed home and made cupcakes, I should have stayed home and made cupcakes..”
As he went from row to row I could feel the hips of most women gyrate.
“Alright, let’s warm up with our first down ward facing dog of the day.”
In unison, we all pushed up to stand on all fours with our behinds protruding in the air. Looking upside down at the class, I could see that most women had already started to copiously sweat. We hadn’t even started yet and he had women dripping wet.
In a classic cliche act, he stood behind one lady in an attempt to adjust her – feeding into my entertainment he then said, “You are so tight, you need to relax and this position will feel really, really good.” She then let out a moan.
I let out a giggle.
Over twenty pairs of glaring eyes shifted across the room to stare at me.
There was no way I was going to get through this.
“Now lift your right leg as high as you can,” he encouraged as he pulled another woman’s leg into the air. She was clearly uncomfortable and looked like she was about to topple over any second.
“You’re flexible, now come on push harder.” And she did. You could tell because her face started to turn an eerie shade of maroon.
The guy next to me couldn’t take it anymore – he burst into laughter which led him but the poor woman working it, to face plant. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one who found the scene a bit too comical, others joined in at failed attempts of stifling their snickers.
He gaped at us, clearly not amused. He commenced his shameful collection of the harnesses, grabbing them from off the floor while muttering random Indian words under his breath – I could have sworn a few of the phrases were actually Yoga positions, but hey.
Needless to say, I behaved for the rest of the hour.
I thought that the story would be done there. A nice clean finish to an afternoon, but no.
I went to pick up Little A from day care. He grinned, wide eyed at me and said,
“Mommy douche bag.”
Sweet Dreams World.