Not A Good Spread

I am going to yoga 3 times a week now to take care of my own self, as all the women's magazines that I don't read and all the people around tell me it is good to do. At times I love it, but when I've been away for a bit, my legs tighten up like a preacher's wife. Everyone's down there on the floor, breathing the oo-jai breath. From the throat, like Hebrew or German, but lighter: chuuuhhh. We're all focusing on ourselves, at this moment, in this space, but clearly some women can spread it better than others. And when my legs look tight enough to strangle my non-stop talker instructor it's a bit disheartening. It's like "Hello! I'm a lousy fuck! Nobody ever had any fun in there!" The things won't obey me - they're like my evil twins, taking revenge for too much thoughtless sex in my youth. Some twenty-year-old behind me usually has her legs wrapped behind her neck like a spider. A few weeks later, after torturing my thighs and calves to let go and let labia, the legs splay a tiny bit more. I'm grateful for the old guy in the back who can't touch his finger to his nose.

My back is a different story. Although it is the root of my leg distress - I had a ruptured disc a few years ago - my back is heavenly. I can practically put my head on my ass the first day I return from a yoga hiatus. After a few classes, I'm doing the bridge, I'm twisting, I'm all yoga-lady, and then someone says "spread your legs," and it's back to the preacher, the missionary position, and the vindictive and non-compliant twins.

Yesterday some buff guy around my age left at the same time I did, and instead of chatting him up - my usual mode of life - I avoided eye contact as if he had caught me naked on the toilet. Objectively, he probably got a good whiff of my provocative scent, took one look at my classic features (never mind those red marks), and lost the ability to speak. I know, I know, it's always the true beauties who don't realize how stunning they are. But in that parking lot, outside that gym, in those sweatpants, I was a schlub who had just spent a good part of an hour struggling to spread her legs.