You can't yoga alone

Today's a big day for me. I've been counting down the clock to 5 p.m., when my yoga/pilates class begins. I've done pilates before, but there's a significant difference in exercising alone in your living room and in front of numerous pairs of eyes. I'm not excited about the other eyes, but I vowed to my best friend that we'd take this class together. 

We were supposed to start the class more than three weeks ago, but I've had stitches and was instructed not to exercise so they wouldn't pull. As soon as the stitches came out, the sinus infection came in. I'm still feeling cruddy from that. I hardly slept at all last night because I was coughing my head off — but I have no excuses. Others' eyes are holding me accountable. 

After church Sunday, my boyfriend, Ty, and I met his parents for lunch. Both of his parents are athletic. His dad coaches swimming and his mom is a marathon runner and a spin teacher. Talk about a power couple. I figured our lunch time was the perfect time to interrogate Ty's mom about the yoga/pilates class. 

I admitted to being nervous about the whole thing, and Margaret seemed slightly ticked by all the questions. By the end of our Q and A, I felt comfortable with my Tuesday/Thursday class. Sure, she told me that my booty would be up in the air a lot, but she also told me the lights would be off or dimmed.  

I may be in a room filled with other people, but I hope to maintain a smidge of privacy when I downward dogging in the back of the room.