Funny Fridays: Yoga class

I was at yoga class the other day and suddenly had a flashback of a yoga class that I took years ago, prompting me to share it with you.  I was living in a small town at the time. I don't want to mention it by name because I might offend the tens of people who live there and love it. Basically, picture a small town, then fill it with retirees' parents. Lawn bowlers unite! It's so small that when I lived there, there was a block party, complete with a cake, a ribbon cutting ceremony and the mayor, to celebrate the paving of one of their roads. I kid you not. During one dark and snow blasted night, I drove to my yoga class. I set up my mat, made small talk with the instructor and waited for class to begin. No one else showed up. "It looks like the snow has kept everyone away, I guess it's just us," he said. I got up and said, "Oh don't worry about it. We can skip it. I'll head out." He insisted that since I braved the stormy weather to get there, I should stay. Let me set the scene for you: Picture a fifty-something yoga instructor wearing nothing but short (and I mean short) spandex shorts teaching out of his living room lit dimly by a crackling fire in the fireplace. If I told you he looked like Leonardo Dicaprio, and that my yoga mat was a bearskin rug, it would seem like a wonderful Harlequin setting. But when I tell you he looked more like Leonardo Da Vinci, and that the shorts were bordering on speedo length, suddenly the setting takes a horrible left turn doesn't it? He got me to lie down on my back, while he stood above me, a leg on each of my sides. He wanted me to practice my bridge poses and assisted by lifting my hips. As you can imagine, my eyes darted everywhere in the room except up. I did not want my gaze to hit that spandex zone, even if it meant throwing my neck into spasms to look elsewhere. He would periodically stop our class to stoke the fire. Picture half naked Da Vinci in short shorts silhouetted against a roaring fire. Every now and again his wife would stroll through to do some minor dusting. In my contorted positions, I kept trying to throw her my best, "I'm here for the yoga, not your husband" reassurance with my eyes. I thought I'd share that little moment from my fitness past because the image is now featured in the dictionary next to the word awkward.