embarassing part 2

My hip hurts. At first, I wondered if I'd bumped into something and perhaps it was bruised. Check for bruises. Nope, none visible. But my hip keeps hurting and I begin to feel an affinity with all those old people I see tottering on the bus shoving their walkers in front of them. I begin fearing that my debauchery of French fries, trans fat, and genomed food along with my non-existent calcium intake are finally catching up with me and somehow rapidly aging my bones. Before my hypochondriac panic sets in, I realize that this past week I went to all my yoga classes after a week of not attending. Yes, a few classes have put me into geriatric mode.

I chose yoga because it seemed pretty simple; stretching and breathing can't be all that hard. My body, however, doesn't seem to think so. As my hands begin to slip in my downward dog, I sneak a peek at the others, which I know I shouldn't do. It's self-esteem suicide. No one seems to be wobbling as much as I do and I know some of them are first timers like me. My instructor is always mentioning how yoga is about taking care of yourself and encourages us to take breaks and some other nonsense. If the girl next to me can reach back and grab her foot, then so can I. Well, no not really but I try hence my hip injury. Thus, last week I vowed that I would treat my body with respect even though it doesn't extend the same courtesy. So this week when I couldn't do a shoulder stand I reasoned with myself,

"Ok, I've never done a shoulder stand before. Maybe it takes awhile before someone can master that. It's cool, I'll just breathe here on my mat and think happy thoughts".

And at that moment I turned me head. The sixty-year-old woman who had just joined our class was shoulder standing with ease.

"Ok, breathe. Don't turn any more".

I turned once more and that was the clincher. The nine-month pregnant woman due at ANY moment, who had also just joined the class, remained in that position for all of relaxation time. As I desperately tried to heave my weight onto my elbows, I thought about how maybe I can get neon tennis balls to put on the feet of my walker. Along with some decals. Gotta differentiate myself from the gerrys right?