Email to My Yoga Teacher

Tammy,

Tonight was my first Bikram yoga class.  I don’t know if I can go back but I’ve already paid for 9 more lessons.

When I walked in the studio door it was already a little steamy.  Okay I thought, this is really going to be exhilarating.   When the teacher arrived she asked for my name and whether I had ever done Bikram yoga before.  No and Gary I announced.   She then cranked up the heater near my mat.   Initially we did some breathing poses where you move your arms and neck.  So far so good.  Then oblique twists for mountain pose.  Cool, good bye muffin top.  Soon there were new poses I didn’t know and I was covered in sweat.  I reached for a towel to wipe my face, neck, arms, and chest.   The cute, young, girl-next-door-teacher, approached and told me to give up the towel because I would need it the whole class.  I was able to do a few more poses and then I had to stop and sit in timeout on the ground behind my mat.  I feared heat exhaustion.  Aerobically, I was burnt toast.  I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest.  I watched everybody else do what I was incapable of.  She then called out triangle pose.  She came over to me and sweetly whispered, or so I thought,  “come on, even Charlie Brown can do this one.”  During another pose she told us to put our hands by our heart and we can pray if we want.  I don’t think she was kidding.  I couldn’t see the clock so I piously requested the end of class.  Throughout class the teacher would call my name to encourage me; however, I felt quite embarrassed.  After all, there were a couple of overweight guys who had 15 years on me and they could do all of the poses.  I heard her say shivasana and I got up from my exile as I can definitely do relaxation pose.  She said to keep our eyes open.  I think something is wrong.  Three seconds later we were instructed to fold our torsos over our legs; this sent me back to once again being a bench warmer.  The teacher was so hot her halter top and capri pants were covered with sweat stains.  No need for any weird ideas; I was so delusional my brain didn’t have the capacity for any Clintonesque thoughts.  After several more fakes, the real shivasana arrived.  I got back on my mat and nearly passed out.  When I came to, I saw there was only one other person in the class and she was leaving.

Was this really yoga?  Maybe an inbred cousin.  Hardly any of the poses resembled vinyasa yoga.  It was so hot I think the walls will soon be covered in mold.  Maybe I should call Groupon and tell them I dropped into the wrong class and get my money back.

Gary Kahn