Recently an email from a friend sent memories flooding across my minds ticker tape with images of my first Yogi class, much like an ‘I Love Lucy’ episode. It began friendly and informative but quickly turned ugly, when the instructor plugged in the music. Those women were serious..no one spoke, the only sound heard, was mine. I pretended to know what I was doing chocking back tears of embarrassment and pain. Sure didn’t want anyone to think this was my first rodeo. I began trying to imitate the group, which seemed like a crowd, 8 women’s bodies preforming those contours and convex positions like well made clocks. From the corner of my eye without pointing or gasping, the instructor had folded her body into a small envelope…well…my body instantly went rigid speaking to me rather loudly..no way. That class lasted about an hour which was about fifty minutes to long for me. I could have left after the introductions. It is rather difficult to smile when you are in such pain. Someone handed me the schedule for the next class and I was afraid it would go up in smoke, all I could do was nod….and that wasn’t easy. Holding back the tears…my mind was saying ‘you got to be kidding’, along with ‘this is the last time you will this face’. I struggled to get the schedule in my pocket and walk to my car….you know that feeling when you accidentally fall and you want everyone within 3 blocks to know you are okay….the pain. Well those cute tights are still in my closet as a reminder….to the pain my body experienced that first class of Yogi.