The Fattest Girl in Yoga Class

So you’re in LA and you want to exercise. I don’t blame you. When you are filled with the aggression which daily life in Los Angeles inevitably incites, it can give you extra energy which you could channel into a healthy pursuit like exercise. Well, that or punching people at Whole Foods. And given the fact that the air is not fit for a three-headed mutant rat from a power plant to breathe, and every single paved surface is clogged with cars driving like they’re in a demolition derby, jogging and biking are pretty much out. You could run on a treadmill, but you’d have to battle for an available one with the droves of Exercise People who, I am convinced, keep apartments above 24 Hour Fitness, and arrive in groups of 200 around the clock to keep normal people from using the equipment. Possibly, this is why yoga is such a popular LA pass-time. Or maybe because the women there needed another excuse to wear spandex when the eighties ended. Who knows?

Before you take a yoga class, you have a major decision in front of you. Are you going to take your class in a gym or a yoga studio? This decision is half the battle, because once you decide this, you have also decided on your type of instructor, and your classmates. If you go to the gym, first you will need a gym membership. There is only one guy who ever sells gym memberships. This is not LA specific. You could be in Los Angeles or Fargo, and your membership will be sold by 270 pounds of steroid abuse named Chad. Chad will try to upsell you into buying a super-deluxe, universal club membership. Do not believe his lies. Get the basic membership, go to yoga class, and never set foot in that office again. Your teacher will have a name like Kimmi, Micki, Kirsti, Skipper, or something equally nauseating. Your classmates will probably be named Betty Jo, but will “act” (read: wait tables) under the name Bethanya. The Skippers will lead the classes like cheer coaches, blasting a pop music CD, with lots of peppy encouragement while they bounce around twisting themselves into impossible pretzel shapes which would be impossible for you to copy. Bethanya can copy them perfectly, and thrives under Skippers rah-rah attitude. Bethanya is, after all, one of the Exercise People. The gym will be full of them. Those 2% body fat freaks of nature that live on the treadmill in between shifts at Spago. If you want to avoid the Exercise People, you may have to go to a yoga studio.

At the yoga studio, your teacher will be named Sage, Midnight, Moon Blossom, something of that nature, though she was probably also a Betty Jo at one point in her life. She bikes to the studio from her apartment in Silverlake, where she is hand-fashioning a line of organic bath mats, in between auditions, of course. New age music subtly floats through a room scented like patchouli and hung with silk scarves and twinkle lights. Moon Blossom murmurs gentle words of encouragement to the stay-at-home moms and one gay guy in her class. Balancing on her head, grabbing both big toes with her right hand, Moon Blossom will tell you the sweet, simple clarity of this move once you let go of the pain you are imagining. The moms will force their faces into relaxation and fantasize about their next Botox appointment, and pretend that it might make them look as serene as Moon Blossom. Moon Blossom probably got Botox, too.

But do you really want to take yoga? Far be it for me to try to talk you out of yoga classes. Maybe, though, you would prefer one of the many yoga hybrids that exist out there. These are available both in studio and in gym. If yoga is not work out enough for you, perhaps you want to blend it with some other form of work out, dance, or pep rally activity. Yogalates might be more your style. Or Yogaerobics? Jazz Fusion Yoga Beat? The possibilities are as limitless as the imaginations of every failed dancer and ex-Laker Girl in the City of Angels. That is to say, fairly limited.

Now that you have decided on your class, what are you going to wear? If you are one of the Exercise People, you undoubtedly already have a closet full of sports bras and various spandex garments to paint on to your size 0 frame. Good for you. Now, to address the normal people, who haven’t worn work out clothes since high school gym class. Basically, you need to be able to bend, and you will need to strap down the worst of your jiggling. Both yoga studio and gym will sell you appropriate garments. At the yoga studio, the clothes will be organic cotton, hand painted by Moon Blossom. Of course, they are very expensive. You are in LA and you’re shopping, what do you expect? These clothes are high in comfort and very low in jiggle-protection. At the gym, you will find the opposite. Mystery fiber which straps you in like you’ve duct taped your ass, and somehow manages to breathe, while taking away your ability to do so. They are also very expensive. Still in LA, right? Jiggling in front of Skipper and the “actresses” or dying of asphyxiation? I leave the decision up to you.

On second thought, maybe you should just try punching the people at Whole Foods. I haven’t tried it, myself, but it can’t be much worse.