I tried different yoga classes than usual and the results were very bad

My sister usually takes charge of the yoga class schedule, and I stick to that more often than not. Call it a system, but whatever it was, it worked. She even signed us up for a Vinyasa 2 class.

I’m not usually afraid of numbers. Honestly, I didn’t even realize there were numbers in yoga. Vinyasa Flow (or Vinyasa 1 it seems) has been my dear companion for a while. Leaving it for something “bigger” was kind of huge. But I trusted my sister, and thought it would be another opportunity to have a good time and do something active after a long day at the office.

When I asked her to explain, she simply said, “The detention will be a little longer and involve more balance, but wouldn’t you like to do more exercise?” Nothing like a little brother to ignite your inner competitor. Yes, I got this, I believed. A piece of crumb.

This is where the story should have ended – my sister pushed me into a class that probably made me sweat more profusely. Instead, it was the beginning of a special kind of nightmare.

I realized we had made a miscalculation of tragic proportions immediately after our teacher introduced himself. The man at the front of the room, let’s call him Gustav, was brimming with confidence and eager to share his essential and important knowledge. He spoke enthusiastically about his practice, his recent transformations, and the accomplishments he had made.

It is worth noting, Handstand. Lots of them. This is the key to a new lease on life, he said.

These were not mere acts of force. They were an identity. His identity. For the next 60 minutes, they became something to us too. They are sore shoulders and a reminder of our shortcomings. Welcome to Gustavland.

This wasn’t a yoga class, this was a stage that could fit only one star in a tank top. We watched in awe (amazement?) as Gustave rose with his feet toward the sky and began leading the class from his upside-down throne. How, exactly, he was able to teach with so much blood running to his head was puzzling to me, but it probably explains his lack of real education.

Bodies hit the ground as student after student tried to imitate The Elevated One. I got my knees to rest on my elbows before I realized I wasn’t going to get any higher today, or maybe ever. But the child’s position wasn’t an option, not on Gustave’s show. The orders came from somewhere down where his legs were supposed to be, a low mouth opening in a dark room. higher! higher! higher!

I felt at once publicly embarrassed and ridiculously amused. The mat has become my home, and I won’t move any further. My sister, on the other hand, was completely under Gustav’s spell. Half up, down, then half up again, punctuating each stumble with a slight moan before engaging in more.

We left the class under a blanket of silence, but not before Gustave had everyone lined up so he could pass by each of us in the fifth row.

My sister got to the car first. We exchanged puzzled looks, and I couldn’t suppress the laughter that had been bubbling beneath the surface for the past thirty minutes. Just what It happened?

“I don’t think this was Vinyasa 2,” she said.