On Sunday, I dragged Mr. P to a free community class at the local hot yoga studio, which is still trying to ramp up its lukewarm class attendance. About 11 people attended — a record, from what I’ve seen. Before the class, the studio’s owner asked if she could take pictures of the class — “only flattering ones, of course.” No one objected. The class was very relaxing after Saturday’s hike and before Sunday’s football and afterwards we enjoyed some refreshments as we chatted with our fellow class attendees. Altogether, it was a pleasant experience.
And then today I went to the hot yoga studio’s website to check out the schedule, only to find the following picture all splayed out on the studio’s home page:
Dear lord. Yes, that’s me, the woman smack in the center wearing all black with her blond hair in a clip, in the superlatively unflattering pose of upward-dog. On the Home Page! (I hesitate to include the studio’s URL, as I don’t want them to know I blog about them).
On the Schedule page, there’s:
Which is just horrifying, because you’ll notice the outside edge of my back foot is not pressed onto the mat as it should be, and my right leg barely looks like it’s bent at all, let along at a 90-degree angle. That is one pitiful Warrior I.
On the Events page, right next to the notice about the beginner’s series, there’s:
That’s Mr. P on the right, checking his balance. Though he was mortified to see this, he forgot all about it after he saw the Rates page:
That’s when we realized: there is no such thing as free yoga.
