Short Story 14: Yoga Class
A frustrated and overworked worker enjoys a yoga class
7am on the button, that’s when the hotel I’m staying at has their morning yoga class. The hotel calls it sunrise yoga or some bullshit like that. It’s the dead of winter, the sun isn’t rising for another while. It’s the first thing I look for when I book a hotel on a business trip. Nothing else matters. They just need a morning sunrise yoga power hour and I pick that one. Usually this means picking a more upscale hotel but that’s fine. I have a deal with my employers. I get my yoga power hour or I walk. It’s a silly hill to die on but I’m prepared to do so. The company obliges my strange request as I’m the top seller, numero uno. Perks of being a sales superstar.
The reason I need a yoga class is because it’s the only hour where I don’t have to do shit. I’m a busy woman. My employers work me like a dog. My back hurts from sitting at a desk all day and my eyes hurt from staring at a screen. I am a workaholic, sure, but even the workaholics got to have some relief, you catch my drift? So instead of snorting snow off of company cisterns, I get my respite from yoga.
The main reason I do yoga is the 10 or so minutes of relief I get at the end of class, you know the part where you lie down like a corpse and pretend like you’re dead? Yeah that part. In those 10 glorious minutes, I don’t have a thought in the world. Sure, it takes a bit of time and effort to get into this ‘no think state’ but my God, it is so worth it.
So here I am, half my body upside down in down dog, thinking of work work work. My brain won’t switch off for at least 15 minutes. The incessant chatter of ‘oh you better remember to smile’ and ‘be pleasant to our shareholders’ and ‘don’t forget to edit that last slide on your PowerPoint presentation - the font is two sizes too small!’
‘Don’t forget to take a photo of every single receipt or the bitch Melody from Accounts won’t reimburse you for all the shit you spent your own hard earned cash on.’
“...since this is our first Adho Mukha Svanasana of the class, don’t forget, you can peddle out your feet to loosen up those hamstrings!”
Great, the teacher pretentiously calls the poses their Sanskrit names AND he has the yoga voice... you know that annoying voice where they enunciate each and every word clearly and calmly and you just know that they sat in front of a mirror to practise the pronunciation over and over again...
“Deep inhales through the nose, deep exhales through the mouth”
Yeah yeah yeah I know how to breathe, dude… The yoga teacher has a man bun, a white tank top (to symbolise his purity and holiness, no doubt) and shorts that are just an inch or two too short. Not exactly short shorts but getting into that territory. We can see your thighs, dude! It’s kind of distracting... Please let me have my black and white opinion on you. I don’t need grey right now. I’ll get all the grey I can handle at the stupid conference I am going to later today. I don’t want to think you’re hot while I complain about you. God fucking damn it...
“-and to engage your shoulders just pretend your opening jam jars outwards, left hand opens to the left, right hand opens to the right! That’s right, open those jam jars! Feel those shoulders engage!”
He’s still talking. I am here upside down and fantasizing and he’s still talking. About bloody shoulders! And what a pair of shoulders this man has. It’s too bad I am still looking between my own legs to see his big broad beautiful shoulders. Fuck, how long have we been in down dog?? Switch it up please!
“If your mind wanders, that’s completely okay! Just gently lead it back, focus on your yogasana, focus on connecting your energy into your mat, focus on you”
It’s a good thing he can’t see my face right now since I roll my eyes so hard that the disdain I am feeling after such comments cannot be disguised. My eyes involuntarily fall on the clock in the back of the room, it’s 5 minutes past 7. No fucking way. People really don’t tell you that you can pause time in yoga class!
“Okay class! That was the warm up! Feeling energised I hope in this cold weather! But to be extra sure we are going to do some Surya Namaskars to get the whole body going! We won’t need any heating after doing these! We will do an auspicious number of them.... How about 108!? Just kidding! Let’s just do 8!”
God damn 8 is a lot! Let’s see those fatties at the top do them. No way they can get through 8... I could barely get through 1 when I was that size... We go through the motions of a sun salutation. Man bun to his credit does all the poses with us. I hate when the teachers just tell us what to do. They should work with us. I don’t believe the energy mumbo jumbo but I definitely feel the difference when the teacher is suffering with us.
He gives modifications for the fatties. Calls them style A and style B. Cute. Just say the second version is harder. I don’t know why everything has to be so PC these days... Some people are just better! Like me! I do the full sun salutation since I’ve been doing yoga for donkey’s years now. I couldn’t be sure but I swear man bun is staring at me more than the other students...
“And what number Surya Namaskar was that, class?? I think it was 5 or 6... just kidding! That was 8!”
There’s some weak laughter around the room. Perhaps from pity since the joke is terrible. This yoga teacher is extremely cringe but in an endearing way. The jokes are bad but you can’t help but cheer for him. Maybe if he was really ugly I could dislike him but he’s sure making it hard.
The rest of the class, until corpse pose, is uneventful. Exactly how I like it. The spiteful comments end and I stop bitching. I focus on my breath. Connecting to the mat and mother earth and my chakras or whatever he’s babbling on about in class. I have strong warrior 123 poses, my tree pose is solid, my hips are loose. I’m feeling good. I even work up a sweat. During the start of the class, the middle of my boobs and lower back got uncomfortable sweaty. I am just sweaty at this point. Not comfortably sweaty but a solid middle ground. I wonder if my deodorant is working but stop caring when I get a whiff of the middle aged soccer mom next to me. Gross. She reminds me of the moms I see when it’s my turn to pick up my kids. Overweight and can’t stop yap yap yapping.
My sculpted legs, my personal favourite feature, has a translucent sheen to them, a vitality that shines through from years of self care, private PT sessions, and trips to the salon for monthly waxing. All worth it just to show this boy toy what he could have...
He looks too innocent though. Not like the other yoga teachers I’ve seduced. Like he actually believes in all the crap he talks about. It’s cute. A puppy dog kind of cuteness. You just want to go right up to him, pat his silly chestnut brown man bun, and give him big pets on his soft belly. If only, if only he’s a bit more... rough around the edges.... I would push him into the men’s bathroom stall, rip his clothes off, and mount his fat....
“Okay we will come out of Ananda Balasana now! If only we could stay a happy baby forever... Bring your knees up to your chest, hold both of them, take a deep inhale, and as you exhale let go of your legs and stretch them out to the end of your mat. Take up as much space as you want in your Shavasana. This is all you time. Your time to connect you to-”
Me. You should connect yourself to me. God ok I’ll stop. I actually enjoy this part. I can just lay here as he plays some hippy dippy relaxing music and I can finally zone out...
20 seconds in. BAM. The middle age fat guy is snoring. 20 SECONDS, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?? WHO CAN FALL ASLEEP THAT FAST?? Great now I won’t be able to zone out. Sounds exactly like my piece of shit ex-husband.
“Thank yourself for coming today. Now everyone deserves a nice well deserved rest”
I hope the guy next to me does rest... rest in peace that is.... prick. I focus on the snoring. Little snorts at first that turned into big obnoxious snorts. I could tell man bun up top hears it too. The whole room could probably hear it. I focus on the snorts. Big snort, small snort, big snort, small…
Eventually it fades, like white noise as I go into a sleep like state. My tense face softens, my body relaxes, the tension disappears. My mind goes blank and it feels like I’m floating in a warm bath.
After class, I get up, put on sock, shoe, sock, shoe, roll up my mat, and stuff my sweat towel into a duffel bag.
As I tie my trainers, I overhear man bun talk to a pretty skinny girl. His smiles cloyingly innocent, his laughter infectious. Even someone like me could tell he actually believes in the shit he says. A genuine yoga teacher huh…
As I walk out, I shyly thank man bun for a great class. He just beams me a smile like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. I smile back but I feel awkward about it.
I step out the door and slowly walk to the changing room to get ready for the long conference ahead of me.