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The room was dimly lit, mildly scented with a detergent-like smell, and almost empty except for mats spread on the otherwise bare floor. Walking into the room, I suddenly felt self-conscious, walking extra careful so as not to trip in front of the many eyes fixed upon me. Even though there is no age limit to this activity, I hastily sneaked a glance around the room, looking or another person close to the age of mine. To my relief, I found a few even more nervous-looking people around me.
I wasn’t going there alone, neither is it an idea of mine to go there. My mother chosen to sit in front, so I followed suit. It was then that I noticed that the entire wall in front of me is hidden behind a large mirror. My mum grunted,” why is the mirror not made to reflect a slimmer figure of me?”
When I turned to look in front I noticed that the instructor had already come in. She didn’t look like those I-can-lift-a-truck kind of instructor to me, in fact, she couldn’t have been more than 28. Call me narrow minded, but I have always thought that Yoga= Old people teaching old people + everybody wishing to stay young but effectiveness unknown.
To cut it short, the stretching was almost unbearable to me. Let alone for my mum, who has never stretched a single muscle in her life. Surprisingly, my dad, (okay, I admit it, I wasn’t paying much attention to my pose, but rather to the people around me) was doing quite well, guess the mountain climbing is working well for him. Whenever there’s a uh-so-impossible-pose required from us, the whole class tried, fell on the mat, and erupted in a painful laugh. Of course, there were people who had attended a few more classes before that, so they were busily showing off what they could do that we newbies couldn’t.
The part where I enjoyed most was when the instructor asked us to lie down with our eyes closed. I drifted off. (Hopefully I didn’t drool. Yikes,) All in all, the lesson was way tougher than I thought, leaving me aching all over for a few days after.
I wasn’t going there alone, neither is it an idea of mine to go there. My mother chosen to sit in front, so I followed suit. It was then that I noticed that the entire wall in front of me is hidden behind a large mirror. My mum grunted,” why is the mirror not made to reflect a slimmer figure of me?”
When I turned to look in front I noticed that the instructor had already come in. She didn’t look like those I-can-lift-a-truck kind of instructor to me, in fact, she couldn’t have been more than 28. Call me narrow minded, but I have always thought that Yoga= Old people teaching old people + everybody wishing to stay young but effectiveness unknown.
To cut it short, the stretching was almost unbearable to me. Let alone for my mum, who has never stretched a single muscle in her life. Surprisingly, my dad, (okay, I admit it, I wasn’t paying much attention to my pose, but rather to the people around me) was doing quite well, guess the mountain climbing is working well for him. Whenever there’s a uh-so-impossible-pose required from us, the whole class tried, fell on the mat, and erupted in a painful laugh. Of course, there were people who had attended a few more classes before that, so they were busily showing off what they could do that we newbies couldn’t.
The part where I enjoyed most was when the instructor asked us to lie down with our eyes closed. I drifted off. (Hopefully I didn’t drool. Yikes,) All in all, the lesson was way tougher than I thought, leaving me aching all over for a few days after.
