“You’re going to make everyone late,” he said.
He glowered at me. I found myself staring at an unidentifiable green and black scribbling on his right arm. It was a tattoo, sort of. He was also a bit…pudgy. I wondered how that could be, seeing as he exercised in a room heated to 105 degrees most days.
Shit. He was waiting for me to speak.
“Uh…we can come back to the 5:30,” I replied.
I averted my eyes to his face. He was still glaring at me. I thought coming here was supposed to be about achieving peace, fixing my chi-ness, aligning my spirit with the whatsit-gods of India. Or something.
“Whatever. But you won’t, will you? I just wanted to make sure you knew. If you are cool with making everyone wait, then it’s fine with me,” said the scary yoga man.
I assumed he was implying that I was the rudest yogi ever. Maybe I was. He was shirtless and covered in tattoos, with a silver earring winking at me from his left lobe.
I eyed the mats, wondering if it would be a wise choice to ask him his opinion on the differences between the ones they sold and the ones at a general fitness store.
Oh, God.
“Get inside,” he said in my general direction.
I caught Meredith’s eye. She looked really, really nerv. Oops. This was her first time, too. I tried to communicate “Thanks for the help, stupid, and do not tell him I was the one who made us late!” with my eyes, but yoga-man demanded her attention.
I scampered inside the humid room filled with people lying supine on their towel-covered mats. I felt naked in a sports bra and short spandex, but I already felt beads of sweat forming on my face, my shoulders, my entire body. Woof, it was hot in there today.
It was my third time doing Bikram Yoga, otherwise known as Fire Yoga. I started this attempt at physical well-being when I realized that 1. I had no life, 2. I wanted to lose weight and 3. “Regular” yoga wasn’t enough for me. I associate sweat with a good workout and I find spinning to be some kind of leg-sacrifice, so I went in the direction of “enlightenment.”
Hopefully, that video did not scare you.
The first time I did this, I was hungover. After realizing that it could only go up from there, and by there I mean baking myself at 8 a.m. in a room of flexible maniacs, I decided to come back. And I love it.
Meredith and yoga-man entered the room. I now knew his name was Leo, and his sister’s birthday was yesterday. He dedicated the first pose to her, which is the one I have most trouble with. I tried not to take it as an omen.
“Nice work, Mama,” said yoga-man in my general direction.
I looked around, even though I was supposed to be concentrating on making my leg like a tree-trunk, which I find unpleasant, but whatever. I then realized that yoga-man referred to the ladies in class as “Mama.”
Even though everyone looks like they just jumped in a pool post-class, it really is the most relaxing form of exercise I’ve experienced. Even Spin said she’d come back, and we all know how busy she is running her self-founded “day camp.” That was for you, Brendan.
I’ve found that this type of activity is most relaxing after a long and stressful day. Apparently, it realigns your lipids, or something. And you sweat out every toxin imaginable.
So, if you want to stay slim, or at least lose your college booze-weight, try Bikram. When you reach enlightenment, let me know, and we can go prance around India together.
