One
Mom and I arrived at the yoga studio early.
Mom entered the heated room and set her mat in the front middle.
"Hey Mom," I said, "is it alright if we move to the back."
"You go ahead, the gals and I have our spots up front."
People began to arrive. A group of older women placed their mats around Mom. The room filled with a chorus of old lady chit chat. I layed down on my back-- already building up a sweat in this hot room-- as I regretted my decision to come.
"Alright class, let's get started," said a new voice.
I sat up and looked at the new voice. It was a guy. He must have been nineteen or twenty, still college aged. The young man walked to the front of the room.
"My name is Jake and welcome to Power Yoga, it's good to see you. I see we have some new faces in the room. Welcome! Let's get started in Child's Pose."
The people around me started to move.
I was shocked by the instructor. I do not know what I expected, maybe some fit, older chick like Mom. But this Jake was unexpected: a young, tan, surfer kid, about six feet tall, with light brown skin, and light grey eyes.
What startled me the most about Jake was his medium length, curly, bleached blonde hair-- almost to a white.
I understood why this was Mom's favorite class: the instructor wasn't just handsome, he was beautiful.
"Alright, now that we are in Child's Pose, let's focus on our breath."
Called to my senses, I noticed all the women were on their knees with their foreheads to the floor except for me. I was sitting on my butt, ogling the instructor.
I used the lady in front of me as a model and I got into position with the rest of the class.
I was amazed at how this twenty year old pretty kid commanded the room, composed of older women. He was so confident and commanding.
I struggled to keep up with the rest of the class. I did not know what any of the words meant, so I had to just follow what the lady in front of me was doing: I looked up before every pose, just to make sure I was doing the right thing.
As I began to sweat, my curiosity with the instructor tuned itself into a background hum. I wanted to give up at a couple of points, but I was too scared of the instructor noticing me, or standing out in any way from the rest of the class.
I pushed through the discomfort of the poses.
We were all on our backs in puddles sweat, when the instructor said:
"And that's it! Good class guys. My name is Jake and this has been our Power Flow class, Namaste."
"Namaste," said the rest of the room. And just like that my first yoga class was over.
Two
People in the room started to sit up and roll their mats.
I wiped myself off with a towel and rolled my mat.
I met Mom in the middle of the room.
"Well, what did you think?"
"It was great," I responded, "I can't believe how difficult that was. I don't think I have ever sweat so much in my life."
"I know right! People think yoga is this chill. girly thing, but it is a hard workout."
We went out the door of the heated room, into the lobby of the studio, where we were greeted by the modelesque instructor.
"Good job Katie!"
"Thanks Jake-ie, your classes are always the best."
"I see you brought a friend with you," he said, as he gestured to me.
"Yeah, this is my daughter Savannah, she is home from college for the summer. She is studying to be a nurse at the U of SC."
"It's awesome to have you Savannah," said Jake as he extended his hand. "I was watching you, and you really hung in there."
"Thank you."
For a second after our hand shake, Jake and I looked at each other.
"Alright, well, we better get going then," said Mom.
"Bye Katie, and it was nice to meet you, Savannah."
"Bye Jake," Mom and I said in unison.
We exited the studio and Mom laughed:
"Well, what did you think of the instructor?"
"He was awesome!"
"Is that why you were so weird when you shook his hand?"
I blushed as Mom and I walked home.
Two
That night I fell asleep sore.
I dreamt about bleach blonde Adonis, and that room of undressed older women. The women bent, lifted, sweated, twisted, turned, moaned, spreaded, folded, breathed, and did all other manner of physical contortions-- all good, obedient, dutiful, submissive girls-- as they obeyed my tan nymph's every whim.
Three
The next morning I was still sore. I came down for breakfast and Mom asked me if I wanted to go to yoga again.
"Sure," I replied, "why not. Aren't you at all sore from yesterday though?"
"Yeah, a little bit. Once you get a sweat going, that tends to go away."
Four
Mom and I arrived at the studio early. Mom greeted her friends and set her mat up by them in the front.
This time I went to the back middle of the room. I unrolled my mat, layed down, and felt the soreness throb through me. More people arrived to this class and the room filled up almost completely.
"Alright class," came from a new voice in the back of the room. This time it was a short, asian woman, who walked up to the front of the room, "my name is Tracy, and welcome to Power Yoga."
I was disappointed. I assumed the teacher would be my tan swimwear model, but I guess there was no real reason why it had to be him.
"Let's get started in Child's Pose."
Like a good girl, I got on my knees and put my forehead to the floor. With my forehead on the floor, I heard the door open.
"Oh, hey Jake."
"Sorry I'm late."
"No worries! Just set up your mat and let's get going. I think there is one spot left, over there in the back"
With my forehead to the floor, I listened to Jake unroll and place his mat down right next to mine.
I sat up, pretended to sip some water, and glanced to my left. Jake was in Child's Pose with no shirt on, his curly ash hair fell onto his mat. 'This is going to be a good class,' I thought, and got back into Child's Pose.
Mom was right. My soreness faded as we went through the poses.
I could not help but check out Jake's reflection in the mirror. He didn't seem to notice.
Jake had the strong yet limber body you would expect from a yoga instructor. I watched his abs move and contract as he lifted and folded. My God, he was in good shape. His tan shoulders; his freckled back; his athletic butt; his herculean abdomen; and his hair-- my numen, my demiurge, my divinity-- his white surfer hair that danced and pranced and frolicked. I was hypnotized.
And just like that, the final "Namaste" was called and my second class was over.
Five
"Hey, you're Savannah right?" Jake asked as I rolled up my mat.
"Hey, you remembered," I replied with all my nonchalance, "and you are Jake, right?"
Like I could forget, my lovely inamorato.
"Yep," Jake said with a cool, uniform, white smile, "so, how was your second day of yoga."