What's one of the worst ways to stick your foot in your mouth?
Last night in yoga we spent an extraordinarily long time at the end of class in legs-up-the-wall pose. Thursday night's class is always more restorative and so this wasn't surprising. Eyebags were brought out and we nestled our buns up against the wall and settled in for 10 minutes.
Now, I absloutely LOVE savasana, but I can't say I'm a big fan of legs-up-the-wall. My feet fell asleep and got really cold and all I could think about was how I would so much rather be lying flat. I could have brought my feet down, really. But since this pose is supposed to be so good for your heart and for your system in general, I didn't want to give up.
I'm not so much a fan of the eyebag either. As soon as I removed mine, after 10 minutes of it lying flat and heavy on my eyelids, my eyesight was so blurry I could hardly see. I wondered if anyone else had this issue--certainly, it seemed from the groans of delight, not in my class.
After tucking my blanket away in its spot on the props shelf, I made my way out of the studio. Sitting at a table near the door, a woman who I had never seen before at any of our classes smiled at me familiarly and appeared as if she were about to say something. She was very thin, but very muscular--you know, your typical yoga body. She was also very gentle and soft--you know, your typical yoga personality.
I sort of stopped and smiled as she mumbled something through her smile. I looked at her quizzically, tilting my head to the side.
"Are you, um, where, um, where will you be having the baby?"
"What baby?" I asked sweetly, inwardly mortified.
She sort of furrowed her brow and patted my tummy.
"Wait, I, um, I'm terribly sorry. I can't see very well."
"Oh that's OK..." I stammered. "I can't either."
"No, I mean I'm disabled. I'm legally blind."
"Oh that's OK, really." I swooshed my hand like it was nothing and hurried out to my car, not knowing what else to say.
Now, you're probably thinking this is your typical embarrassing foot-in-the-mouth story about me now having a big complex because someone saw my fat tummy and thought I was pregnant.
That's not it at all.
There actually was a pregnant woman in class last night. We were both wearing similar outfits--green tank tops, long black yoga pants-- and we were both about the same age with our light hair pulled back in a clip.
It was an honest mistake.
I just find it funny because the moment was so awkardly misunderstood, me saying I couldn't see when she really couldn't see, and the fact that I have always been so self-concious of my roley-poley tummy and didn't at all feel like she was making a comment on my chub.
I also hope she didn't feel too bad, because we all know one of the worst things you can say to someone is to ask when the baby's due when, in fact, there is no baby.
As I told my friend at lunch today, let's hope she's not some sort of clairvoyant. Because that would be freaky.