Om no

Setting: Pilates counter, Wednesday afternoon, after private session
Players: Tall Pretty Blonde Who Works There, Young Pretty Counter Girl, Me (Also Pretty, to the point of Stunning)

TPB (to YPCG): Jodi lives right next door to [yoga studio].

YPCG: Cool.

TPB: But she never goes there.

YPCG (to me): Oh, why don’t you go!?

M: Nah. I don’t have to go. I can just stand on my window sill, crane my neck, and watch them through their skylight and hear them chanting and “om”ing like a bunch of morons. They’re a pain in the ass. I don’t want to join them. I prefer to peer down at them and scream at the top of my lungs, “Shut up! Shut the fuck UP!!!”

YPCG: You’re hilarious!

TPB: You should just go!

M: No way. I’m SO not into the whole yoga thing. (To YPCG, but not aloud: I’ve told you this before. I’ve told you this before. I’ve told you this before at least three times. Don’t make me repeat myself. Don’t question me. You’re both really cute. Don’t make me tell you to fuck off.)

TPB: Just try it!

YPCG: Yeah! You should.


TPB: Check it out sometime.

M: It’s just not for me. I really love this Pilates stuff, but that’s about as far as I’m willing to go. I just don’t want to get in touch with that whole “om”, chanty, let’s-all-sit-on-the-floor-and-get-in-touch-with-ourselves bullshit. Nope. Not for me. I don’t like being in touch.

(TPC and YPCG laugh. So do I.) (A trio of pretty girls, sharing a pretty laugh.)

YPCG: Aww, you should really get in touch!!!

M: I am in touch. I am! I’m in touch with my anger. I like my anger. I love it! And I don’t want to lose it, because it’s what drives me, what keeps me going, what makes me feel alive. It’s part of me, and I’m not willing to give it up. (I smile. I’m sure my eyebrow is raising on its own.)

(They both laugh again. I know they’re envious.)

YPCG: You’re the best. I just love you!!!

M: Have a nice day!


My next appointment is in an hour. I hope I don’t have to repeat myself.