during a hot yoga class—an experience i’ll share soon—i let myself get irritated by a couple ahead of me. the girl was familiar with the practice but the guy was brand new.
while i’ve seen this dynamic dozens of times over the years, still i wonder about those relationships.
what’s the meaning of taking someone you love, or at least like, to an inappropriate class? one that’s murderous-to-the-uninitiated and occasionally murderous even to the initiated? does the woman say something like,
my love for you is so great, honey, i want to see you pull almost every major muscle group in 80 minutes. by the way, there’ll be a bunch of other fit chicks there. lots of long hair, tight clothes, tattoos, so brace yourself. plus, i’m kind of showing you off, so you'd better keep up. sure hope you haven’t eaten recently!
i look at the guys and think, you poor bastard. true, they could refuse. but their egos probably compel them to accept the challenge and attempt postures they aren’t ready for.
back in my reality, the two whispered constantly. she kept nudging him to demonstrate how to stand and move. nothing was beyond the scope of her corrections.
all these shenanigans were magnified by the full-length mirrors they faced at the front of the room, begging the question, why speak at all, yoga dumb-dumbs?
with his first hot yoga class underway, the guy had other problems. i directed my ire at the girl. why must she mother-hen-it-up during what’s supposed to be a solitary experience, albeit one done in the presence of others? whenever i’m with a friend at yoga, the tacit understanding is, yes, our mats are side by side, but i’ll see you after class.
i'm even willing to bet her self-appointment as Significant Other’s Yoga Class Experience Leader backfired. can you imagine how emasculating it is to be corrected every two seconds by someone you’re dedicated to trying to impress?
stellar plan, lady.
then i thought, what if i erase them? not annihilation. i just imagined holding a big, white art eraser and gently scrubbing them from my mind.
when my gaze strayed to them, i reminded myself of their new, invisible status and continued with my practice. it became a tad easier each time.
after class, when i emerged from my life-restoring shower, a pleasant, vaguely familiar song played from the speakers. i shuffled to my locker, took my phone off airplane mode, and Shazam-ed it.
it was none other than the mighty 80’s hit, “A Little Respect” by Erasure.
coincidence? i think not.
I try to discover
a little something to make me sweeter…
and when i can’t, i erase. try it next time you're annoyed and let me know how it goes!
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