Wednesday, May 23, 2007
The Heat of the Torment (Or, When Yogis Attack)
Well, since I've gotten back into doing Yoga again, I decided to try out going to actual classes instead of heaving and hurling myself around my very small apartment - naked - in front of open windows for the world to sort of somehow sometimes see to the beats of a brokedown, beat-down, worn-out VHS tape.
So, I went to a Bikram Yoga class last night...and...
I now know that Hell is indeed a place on Earth.
I also now know that all Yogis are not created equal.
Once upon a time, before I got hooked on my sad, do-it-not-quite-right-yourself VHS tapes, I took Yoga classes. And...
All of my teachers were the same in that sensitive, caring, do-what-you-can-yoga-is-a-practice kind of way.
Um, the way Yoga instructors should be.
Last night, over the course of a 90 minute class I was berated, belittled, and humiliated.
I was also called "fleshy" when I couldn't complete a pose.
The teacher I had last night was, well, how shall I put this lightly....
He was a cunt.
He also didn't know his right from his left...or the meaning of the word "forward". He also took out this lack of said knowledge on me by yelling at me everytime I followed his incorrect instruction.
Last time I checked, Yoga is supposed to zen your motherfucking ass out...not want to beat the crap out of someone.