Email to My Yoga Teacher

Tammy,

A yoga teacher invited me to a special Halloween yoga class.

I arrived and set up my mat in the darkened room.  Suddenly I felt a couple drops of water pour down my forehead.  I looked up and saw there were no leaks in the ceiling.  So how could this be?  We hadn’t even started the class yet.  I looked around and saw something weird for a yoga studio.  What are those machines?

Just then the teacher came into the class, pointed to the machines, and said, “Welcome to hot yoga.” Oh boy!  At least she didn’t welcome me to Bikram yoga as I nearly died of heat exhaustion the couple of times I tried that.  A minor victory.

Another scanning of the room revealed women in skin tight shorts,  sports bras, and really toned bodies.  I started to sweat even more.  Subconsciously I was getting intimidated; I am a level one “yogi” and they are obviously advanced students.  Once the class started, we got into the sophisticated poses pretty quickly.  I felt like I was taking a steam bath, but in this strange world the scantily clad women were not the focus of my attention.  We started moving so fast my heart began pounding like a jackhammer.  Was I having a panic attack?  I thought my life was starting to flash before me.

I rested on my mat and gulped down an entire bottle of water.  For the first time I noticed the women’s clothes were glowing as there were black lights in the studio.  They looked like synchronized Cirque du Soleil performers; surely I must have messed up their tightly choreographed formations.  To avoid any further embarrassment I fell asleep on my back.

When the teacher invited me to this black light yoga class I should have realized that rather than being given a treat for Halloween, I was actually being tricked or yoga punk’d.  I guess she was getting me back for all the times I couldn’t stop laughing in her classes.

Gary Kahn