I Am Not A Noodle.

I attended my first organized yoga class this morning.

Let me first say how much I admire people who do this on a regular basis, because I won't be standing up again for weeks.

So I get to the gym.  The sort of cute guy that welcomes me pretty much every time I go and makes me the occasional protein shake directs me to my classroom.  On the way there, he turns to me and says "Is this your first time at the club?".  Well fine then, I thought we'd been flirting with our eyes for the last month, but I guess not, jerk.  Anyway.

I walk into the room and place my brand spankin' new yoga mat on the floor and spark conversation with the woman next to me, about my inability to actually do yoga, and I watch as this incredibly fruity hippy woman enters the room and hands me a yoga block.  So we begin the class.  Nothing too complicated, a sun salutation at lightening speed (I'm not kidding, this pace could also be described as breakneck, or ticket worthy) and some basic poses.

My entire life, every dance class, every stretch and every chiropractic appointment could not have prepared me for what came next.  The little blond hippy asks me to place my FACE on the yoga block.  I do.  She then tells me to take my knees and rest them on my already shaking elbows and balance myself, in the air, ON MY FACE.  Somehow, I do it, painstakingly.  I can feel the sweat pouring off me and I suddenly become very aware of all of the blood in my body.  I am made aware of this because 98% was coursing through my cheek bones.  Literally I could feel my eyebrow hair growing because of this new found circulation.

As if this pose weren't trying my patience enough, hippy-mc-tiny-legs then walks over to me, kneels down and begins adjusting my neck!  My face is still pressed an inch deep into the yoga block and she's moving me!  She tells me to lift my head and I was like "hahahah, pardon you."  Apparently she wasnt kidding, because she kept saying it and saying it and saying it until finally I say "I can't!".  She got off her knees, giggled and walked away.  I was honestly so confused.

What makes it worse is that during these insane poses, she tells you "focus on your breathing, breath into your toes".  Two points.  First off, I haven't breathed in twelve minutes, because if I do, I will fall.  Second, I'm temporarily unaware of where my toes actually are.

I'm not even going to say that it was human pretzel-ish, because pretzels are solid.  They don't move.  She should have just asked upon entering the classroom, "Please prepare to change your entire view on motion from human, with muscles, to damp spaghetti noodle".