lizard my lizard . . .

yesterday, i bundled up my body, slipped into my Miata and headed for my favorite Yin yoga class.  the place was packed.  evidently i wasn't the only one suffering from cabin fever badly enough to brave the cold and rain.  we were crammed in, like proverbial sardines.  because of the chill our guru turned on the heat and started the class with a body warming inversion.  she started chatting us through the pose extolling us to feel the blood rushing down from our toes.

i felt something siding down alright but it seemed slightly more sluggish then that which my veins convey.  it was a decidedly uneasy feeling but it either ceased or i found my inner self and forgot about it.

past the full body twists into puppy pose, the stretches and finally into lizard pose, i happily followed along. 

 

until, that is, i looked down at my left thigh and saw a distortion just below my left hip.  there sitting for all the world to see was one of the saddle bags i had collected as old age settled into my body.  there under the folds of my yoga pants hung the unsightly and lumpy bulge of cellulite.  not wearing my glasses, i actually lifted one of the three supports holding me up and tentatively touched it with my right hand.  nope, it was not a shadow.  it was definitely a pile of unsightly fat which had slithered down my thigh during the heated inversion, settling in like a mattress well past its prime.  Gah.

and as everything in yoga is a matter of balance, of course we had to do the same pose on the right side.  afraid to check, yet totally fascinated, i shifted my weight so my myopic eyes could check my right thigh and yep, there is was.  a matching bulge.  mortification hung in the air.  my 65 year old body had betrayed me in front of all the size 2 bodies tucked in line, mat after mat.  now i know why teachers keep saying, 'let your body relax into the mat and into the ground below'.  little did i know they were prepping me for wishing i could fall between the cracks in the floor.

but in truth, this is yoga and nobody cares about my lumpy thighs except me.  no one pointed and tittered.  no one heehawed and convulsed into laughter.  and finally as i realized this, i knew that i really didn't give a damned either.  i can only do what i can do.

 namaste.