Petals of Optimism

Charlie promised me yoga.  When we taught Tae Kwon Do, I incorporated yoga stretches in our warm-ups.  The aggressive teenaged boys and Charlie hated it.  The more they whined, the more I incorporated.  I got to love yoga.

We stopped teaching Tae Kwon Do and joined the gym instead.  “Yoga’s on Friday,” I said.  “We can do it together,” Charlie said.  It’s been almost a year.  No yoga.

When Jenn moved in with us she went to the gym to swim.  “They have yoga on Friday,” she said.  “It might help my back.  You’re coming with me.”

We went a few times when we weren’t hurrying to get a start on our weekend.  Friday nights aren’t the busiest nights at the gym for good reason.  If you have something better to do, you’d already be doing it instead of doing a Downward Dog.  The instructor loved Jenn.  She was probably the only good-looking, pregnant, six-foot tattooed students she’d had in a while.

I went twice since Jenn left and it wasn’t the same.  In my mind, yoga is a group activity.  The room can be full, but if everyone’s quiet and obedient, I can’t hold a stretch.  I need to suck the life energy off someone I know.

After a considerable amount of whining, Charlie agreed to come with me today.  He’s covering for someone on the early shift so he’ll be home in plenty of time for posing like an eagle.  He reminded me of this many times today.

He comes home, sits on the couch and starts eating from the Starbucks leftover bags on the counter.  “Where’d this come from?”

“The General and her friends all went into Starbucks, ordered frappucinos with extra whip and cleaned out the pastry case,” I said.  “They giggled and ate while filling out job applications.  I’d say they were obnoxious, but the baristas were guys their age and ate it up.  That’s what they didn’t eat.  I brought it in from the car.”

“I woke up at 5 am,” he says.  “If I’m doing yoga, I need this.”

He turns on the History channel and leans back.  If I watch Hitler and Vietnam for more than five minutes, I’m asleep.  I don’t know why people who can’t sleep are prescribed medication when there’s the History channel available. 

“You know how after you sit for a while when you’re tired, it all starts catching up to you?” Charlie says.  “I went from, ‘Yeah, I’m going to do yoga with you’ to ‘Yeah, I’m going to bed,’ in a matter of minutes.  I gotta sleep.”

I wasn’t worried about missing yoga as much as I was about not missing other things.  There were still leftover sweet things from Starbucks in the house.  If I stay home, they’ll be eaten.  That’s what I was thinking when Charlie went upstairs to go to bed.  Before I could get to the sweet things, Charlie came back downstairs.

“I went upstairs,” he said, “with every intention of going to bed.  Then I remembered how much it means to you.  How could I go to bed when I’ve been telling you all week I’d go to yoga with you?  I felt like such a heel.”

“I’m more worried about eating Starbucks coffee cake,” I said.

“We’re going,” he said.  “We’re going now.  If we don’t leave right away, we’ll sit back down and eat crap.  Let’s go.”

We were way too early for yoga.  The lights weren’t even on in the room.  We looked around the gym and the only people around us were bulging muscled overly-tanned gym rats grunting and sweating.  We hid in the corner and did a few abs.  As soon as the lights went on in the yoga room, we ran in.

“Let me remind you of a few stretches,” I told Charlie as I got our mats.  “I don’t want you to confuse your Upward Dog with your Cobra.”

“Can I cut up in here?” he said.  “I want to make jokes.”

“No.  You do what she says.  If you don’t, your blood pressure won’t go down.  Your blood pressure’s too high from all that man-pig aggressive cop stuff you do all day.”

“She better not be saying ‘Envision a flower, do you see it?  Look at the petals of optimism and peel each one back, one by one.’”

“Be obedient or leave now.”

“Okay,” he said.  “Can I wear my shoes?”

“I’m not sitting near you.”

I forgot about Charlie as soon as we started.  Whenever I scooted my mat away from him to get a little space, he moved closer.

“I’m straining my neck watching the teacher,” he said.  “I’m watching you instead.”

I continued to ignore him.  It wasn’t hard in the beginning when our eyes were supposed to be closed.  When we started twisting, we opened my eyes and I got a perfect view of all the cardio TV monitors.  Larry King was talking to Alexis Stewart about how her mother Martha was handling jail.  I relaxed even more, knowing I’d never have to be on TV talking about my mother in jail. 

“You’re hot,” Charlie said.  I didn’t look over at him.  He said it a few more times.  I knew if I looked at him, he’d make me laugh.  I’m certainly not alone.

“You’re modifying the stretch,” he said.  “Every time I look at you you’re doing something harder than the instructor.  Nobody else is doing it as hard.  I’m going to quit looking at you.”

“Shhh!”

We finished with the standing exercises and lied down on our backs.  “I’m loosening up here,” Charlie said right before burping.  Nobody heard but me and I couldn’t help but laughing.  I looked away so I wouldn’t laugh louder.  Both of us were shaking up and down, laughing to ourselves.   I didn’t look over at him until I was sure I could control myself.

“You’re hot.”

I started laughing again.

“My neck is sore so I have to look at her,” he said pointing to a woman in front of us.  “I can’t keep looking.  Her ugly butt’s in my face.”

“Look somewhere else.”

“The only other person I can look at is the little Asian woman who’s grabbing her toes when nobody else can,” he said.  “She’s making me feel like I can’t do anything at all.  I’m watching you again.  You’re hot.”

If I look at him, I’ll laugh again.  This isn’t the kind of life energy I was expecting to suck off of him.

“No one in here has a good butt but you,” he said.  “And you’re old.”

We’re both laughing.  One good thing about being older is the instructor assumes we’re adults.  If she looked over here, we’d at least get a dirty look.

“You made me that salad for lunch,” he said.  “It had a lot of fiber.  I’m doing separate exercises just to keep my trap door shut.  Talk about Mt. St. Helens blowing up.”

I’m watching the instructor now to make sure she doesn’t look over here.

“With the soft music playing, the instructor talking about the earth rising to meet your back, it’d be the perfect moment for me to emit gas to meet the atmosphere.”

“Namastay,” the instructor said.  “Namastay,” we replied.  We’re done.  The instructor turned on the lights, I raced to put away the mats and get out of there.  I haven’t been in trouble in gym class since High School.  I made Charlie put his shoes on outside the room.

“What’d you think?”

“Of all days to eat a full-fiber lunch,” he said.  “That was hard, I’ll tell you.  You ask me what’s sore tomorrow, Ill tell you my butt cheeks.  Talk about isometric exercises.   I have butt muscles I thought I never had.”

“I didn’t think you had them either.  You sure don’t hold back at home.”  Yoga will be good for me, at least in one way.

A little help? [] 7:45:48 PM