The freakishly limber alien-like contortionist at the front of the room doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy grinning at her own reflection in the wall-to-wall mirror as the strategically-placed cameras around the studio capture her every move.
There’s a perfectly good yoga studio in Crescent Harbor but since I signed up for the Prasanna Light Oneness Studio mobile app, I get notifications for the studio’s yoga teachers-in-training program. The sessions are usually late at night and some of the apprentice instructors are better than others but the classes are five dollars a pop so I really shouldn’t complain.
Most of the time, I can follow along from home because the sessions are also live-streamed—in fact, that’s what I used to do with Penny when she was pregnant—but when I saw who was hosting tonight’s class, I knew I wanted to be here in person. I’ve been following this woman’s every move on YouTube for months and at this point, I need to see her up-close with my own eyes.
So after I put Callie to bed, I shimmied into my wish-it-was-Lululemon yoga pants and cruised on down to Reyfield, a tiny suburb right outside of Chicago, just in time for the start of class.
I try to tell myself that I’m here for the sake of my pancake butt. I mean—who knows? Maybe some of these yoga moves will help me plump up my monodimensional bum. But the truth is, it’s my curiosity that got the best of me and lured me here tonight.
In any case, half the people in the room are straining so hard they look like they’re about to pop an eyeball. At the front of the room, meanwhile, our instructor ninja-rolls out of her complex yoga pose like it’s nothing. “I know that you look at me, and you see a woman who has it all,” she says as she stands and slinks through the sea of sweaty, efforting bodies. “The gorgeous physique, the perfect hair, a face that belongs on a statute. But I didn’t get here by being weak. I got here by doing the work, by making the sacrifices, by fearlessly pursuing my destiny despite the cost.”
I forget about trying to mimic the yoga poses and I just stare at her, shooting eye-daggers her way.
The egomaniac in the expensive yoga pants continues her sermon. “You will never get where you’re wanting to go without being willing to make sacrifices…If you knew the things I had to give up to be here before you right now…You’d be so inspired…That’s why I share my story…That’s why I share my transformation…In order to inspire you…” She stops and plants a hand on some poor, toiling woman’s shoulder. “Breathe through the pain, Linette…Commit to your development. Commit to your growth…” The instructor glances at her reflection in the floor length mirror and smirks. “Commit to your glow-up. Like I did.”
I snarl audibly.
She’s one of those people who’s pretty and ugly at the same time. I totally get what a guy would see in her, physically. But, boy, is she a shallow bitch.
As I’m glaring, I feel a steadying hand on my shoulder. I look up to find Isla standing beside me. She gives me a tight smile. “Lengthen your neck and lift your chest, sweetheart. We don’t want you hurting your back.”
I nod and force a smile of my own as I implement her advice.
Isla is the owner of this yoga studio and usually, she’s really nice. Personable. Friendly. But tonight, as she supervises this class, she looks just as uncomfortable as I feel. However, for the sake of coming across as professional, she has to force a smile as the would-be instructor’s ego train skids off the rails. I can bet Isla can’t wait till this class is over so she can give tonight’s yoga teacher a stern talking-to.
After a few more minutes of grandstanding from the instructor, Isla has had enough. She takes back the reins of the class and leads us into a warm-down segment. “All right, everyone,” she says not long after. “I want you to softly begin coming back to yourself…”
Slowly, all the participants shake off their yoga daze and roll up their mats.
“Namaste, babe. Namaste.” The pretentious teacher-apprentice bows and greets her very confused students as they leave the room. “Namaste. Peace and love.”
As everyone files out, I linger, slowly rolling up my mat, hoping to get one final closeup look at the instructor.
“Let me have a word with you, hun.” Isla leads the future instructor to the corner of the room.
“I really impressed myself with my scorpion pose tonight. My form looked incredible in the mirror, didn’t it?” The woman beams.
I strain hard enough to hear Isla say, “Maybe you should focus more of your attention on your students and their journey. Spend less time on how great you are. Let’s not forget that the point of the class is your students. Their posture. Their journey.”
The woman’s face drops. “Oh. Right.”
Isla goes to stack the yoga blocks in the corner of the studio. Meanwhile, the teacher-in-training goes around the room, extinguishing the candles.
The woman pauses after she puts out the candles arranged behind me. “Squat-jumps,” I hear her say. “Squat-jumps are the key.”
“Excuse me?” I frown, confused when I look over my shoulder at her.
She smiles at me pityingly. “I used to have an awful butt, just like yours. Squat-jumps were my savior. Now look at me,” she smacks her ass. It seems to Jello-jiggle in slow motion and my gut sizzles with jealousy. I wish my butt could do that…
Totally unaware that her apprentice just insulted me, Isla comes up to where we’re standing. She gives me a pretty smile. “Hope to see you again soon.”
“Yeah, see you soon,” I barely manage to say.
Isla puts a palm firmly on the woman’s back and guides her toward the door. “Okay, evaluation time. Come on, Gabby.”
I glare at the back
