I had been meaning to take a prenatal yoga class for some time but didn’t because I’m lazy and cheap and I procrastinate. Anywho, some recent back, rib and hip pains brought me to a chiropractor who also recommended I take some yoga classes so that’s how I wound up in a woman’s house this morning, stifling my laughter while staring at my inner eye.
Overall, it was a positive experience and I feel like I had a decent workout while still getting a chance to relax. However, there is only so much hippy dippy I can take.
Welcome to my morning:
First, I’m greeted at the door by the instructor’s husband and three year-old daughter. Her husband introduces himself and their son Ethan. Huh? That cute little girl is your son? What about her long ringlets? Androgynous pajamas? BANGS? What about her perfectly fringed bangs?? Nope, it’s a boy.
The yoga studio is two bedrooms that were converted into one. Clean, pretty, wood floors, the usual. There are two other pregnant women and the instructor. The instructor is very friendly and welcoming; the other two women don’t make eye contact with me and I discover they have the personalities of a dirty sock and a stapler.
In her welcome to us, the instructor says how special it is we are in this space because, “Right there is where I gave birth to my son!” she says pointing to where I sit. She then directs our attention to the cast made of her belly and breasts before she gave birth. All I can see is how tremendous her boobs were and I wonder, where are mine??
The rest of the morning goes fairly smoothly but it does involve the teacher chanting and singing and encouraging us to sing along. (We don’t.) There is also five minutes or so of “freestyle” moving. “Just close your eyes and move around how your body wants you to move. Listen to your body! Dance with your baby! Be sensual!” Do you want me to dance with my baby or be sensual? I can’t do both. I kept my eyes tightly shut the entire time and would pay good money to NEVER have to see what I looked like. Let’s just say it wasn’t dancing, and it definitely wasn’t sensual. It was more like Elaine on Seinfeld.
Can’t wait for next time!