Right after I signed up I swam laps for the first time in a year. It felt great to be moving again. Despite my astonishing lack of athletic ability, swimming has always been something I enjoyed. I swam until I was 8 months pregnant with Charlie and the bounds of good taste prevented me from wearing my Speedo two-piece swimsuit in public any longer. Actually that moment probably passed much earlier, but since I couldn't see most of my belly it was easy to think I still looked "cute" until Ryan came to the pool once to take pictures of me swimming. And then I was all "You know, I could be spending this time lying on the couch while you make me snickerdoodles."
There are several YatY classes offered throughout the week and I decided to go last night (because the only other one I can make meets on Thursday nights and that's when all the good TV is on). I got there early, hoping to get to talk to some of the other ladies in the class and maybe make some friends. There was one woman sitting near the door of the classroom reading a book. She had a fancy bag to hold her yoga mat and all of the fancy accessories I assumed weren't necessary for an activity focused on simplicity and focus. But whatever. I said politely "Is this where the yoga class meets?" She paused, sighed loudly, turned her head to look up at me and said, with more hostility than was really necessary, "Yeah." And then went back to her book.
So then I waited, silently, hands folded, ignoring Cranky, until another girl came down the hallway. She looked to be about my age and looked friendly enough. I smiled warmly, she scowled and kept walking, stopping a short distance away from me to lean on the wall with her arms folded, carefully avoiding looking in my general direction. Okey dokey, I'm in a class with Cranky and Scowly. I THOUGHT THE SOUTH WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FRIENDLY!
I enjoyed the class very much. Many of the poses were like the video I used to do before I had a houseful of people to witness my attempts to fold myself into the Standing King Dancer Position or the Inverted Lotus Flower Legs Aren't Supposed to Bend Like That. It felt so good. Soooo good. I didn't want it to end. Particularly the part near the end where we layed on the floor in the dark and listened to ourselves breathe. I think I used to call that sleeping, but I don't remember.
At the end of class our teacher pressed her hands together and bowed and said "Namaste." Cranky and Scowly mimicked her with great seriousness as if YatY was the core of their spiritual well-being. I giggled. I wonder if they're writing in their blogs (Itakemyselftooseriously.com) right now "There was this mean girl in my yoga class who tried to talk to me before class and she kept smiling and then she GIGGLED at the end of class and now I'm gonna have to go to Yogalates on Wednesday just to get my center back to where it's supposed to be. I hate her! It's not FAIR! Namaste"
I can't wait for next week.