Yesterday in spin class, we had this hippie granola crunching earth mother for an instructor. My hippie heart loved every mantra minute.
I realized that I had to write about her when she yelled:

I couldn’t help myself from laughing VERY loudly – practically throwing my knees out because I had to stop and gain composure.
Basically, yelling to this group of sweaty, mildly-accomplished go-getting 9-5ers living on Manhattan’s upper east side didn’t quite get the response I fear she was used to getting at Bikram Yoga class held down in the west village on ‘chakra Mondays’.

Other things she likes to say while we are oozing sweat, TLC pumping in the background:
"You are a circle. We are circles!! Feel the energy circle about the room. Feed off of each other's energy."
I tried. All I came up with was a dirty look as I reached out to touch the perfect circle of male ass next to me.

“close your eyes and pretend that you are in a secret, loving place.”
I closed my eyes. For some reason all my brain could conjure was the toasty laundry mat across the street where the two Hungarians make my towels smell like ash.

“This next hill is like all of our hills in life. Up and down. Up and down.” (imagine this being said while heavily breathing...)
There was only one male in class. I noticed him blushing. Or maybe he was still out of breath from me grabbing his ass.

In closing, when we were done with our “journey” we were told to stretch and “give ourselves hugs”.
It was the first time I walked away from the gym feeling physically “worked out” while on the phone to my therapist.