I have come to the conclusion that Yoga was created by an Evil Genius.

Think about it. You attend a ‘class’ under some preconceived notion that what you are about to undertake will keep you healthy in body, spirit and mind. That alone is supposed to give you a little “buzz” – thinking that you are doing something good.

So you start feeling good about yourself, thinking – “yeah, I can do this. I’ve got the Wii Fit Yoga Instructor wrapped around my little finger like a Russian Ring.”

Then the first kick to the guts: the instructor walks in. All fresh, young, lithe – has you thinking “she’s never pushed a basketball out of her Hatha”. But of course, she’s all upbeat about it, lulling you back into that warm faux blanket of security again.

Within 15 minutes, you are grunting and groaning into pretzel poses, while your mind creates its own tortuous positions to be tested on the instructor at a later date. Warrior pose doesn’t seem so daunting, until the instructor comes around and pushes down on the arms, telling you that you should be a triangle by now. A triangle? I’ve just spent the last 3 years coming to terms with being “a pear”! I realise at that point that it is not part of the routine to bounce your arms back up and hit the instructor in the face.

Then the piece de resistance: Downward facing dog, and the overwhelming desire to never raise your head again. Of course, Instructor advises us that farting is a natural feature of Yoga as your body cleanses itself throughout the routine. No. No it is not! How are you supposed to be focussing on your breathing, when – for the love of Buddha – you are desperately trying NOT TO!!

As you approach the end of the class, you are given a short reprieve for meditation – only to have your mind run away to finalise the details of your murderous scheme. Just as your mind reaches the point where it can actually conceive lifting your left foot behind your right ear to tap the instructor on the gluteus maximus, you are ripped back to reality and “encouraged” to return for more time next week.

As you stumble away from the mats to the childcare section of the studio, young eyes watch from the little window. Yeah, my instructor advertised this as “a window allowing children to watch and be inspired by yoga”. For me, I see my youngest child grinning – some sort of pride that another has continued my torture while he was forcibly removed from the opportunity. Thank you, oh wise yoga instructor. You have just provided my child with the equivalent of live DIY show on yoganic torture.

It can’t be just me. Surely not. I see that gleeful look on the face of my eldest child when he finishes a yoga session at school. See! Even his school recognises the evil potential of teaching our children how to say “Namaste” while mentally playing out Salute to the Sun with a Roundhouse Kick. They are allowing him the time to hatch his plans to overthrow his Evil Genius Parents through YOGA!!

Alas, once again our evil plans have been thwarted by a far more superior Evil Genius that gained the upper hand a lot earlier. Who am I to challenge such brilliance? To create such torture in such an addictive manner, appealing to young and old alike. Maybe, if I attend next week, I will be able to decipher the secret of their ways. Yes, one more session.

If only to return the Downwind Facing Dog to my instructor…

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Evil Genius Mum

Evil Genius Mum
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