Yoga update

I have finished my beginner course and have now joined a general (all comers) class on Wednesday evenings.
Rather surprised to find number of my colleagues attend this class, usually followed by dinner and drinkies. Very civilized.
They were pleased to welcome me to their group, but admitted there was some anxiety I might mention our goings on in the departmental newsletter. I reassured them, however, that that won’t happen. What happens in the studio, stays in the studio. In fact so far I am by far the weakest link, being called out by the teacher several times each class for faulty technique, as well as quite regularly wobbling over during particularly difficult poses. Gravity is not my friend. (The teacher: “Stop grimacing!”)
Having said that, one of my colleagues complained loudly of cramp in his foot last night in class, and was immediately offered a magnesium salve by the very enthusiastic instructor. He refused initially, while the rest of us doctors just sniggered quietly (don’t get me started on pharmacokinetics), but eventually he relented and got an oily spray on his foot, which then got smeared all over his other leg (we were doing “the tree”) and then all over his yoga mat.
One of the others, the youngest and keenest, got a smack on the foot for having it in the wrong position, which the instructor immediately apologized for (“shouldn’t have done that!” She muttered to herself under her breath, which reminded me of Hagrid). Only a few minutes later, though, she was back physically assaulting the same student- all I heard was a strangled groan from him, as she said “yes, you’re a bit tight there” to nervous laughter from the rest of the participants. He said later over dinner that she’d just pushed his spine down on the cork brick and winded him slightly – the groan was involuntary and mostly just surprise. Anyway Bronwyn was a very nice and chirpy lady and an excellent teacher, and was acting as cover for our regular teacher Tessa who was home with a sick daughter.
Swapping yoga anecdotes over dinner and a glass of sav (beer for the boys), the story that most surprised me was a male teacher they had had once who asked at the beginning of the class if any of the female participants were having their period. That appalled me. I have no idea what his reasoning was but I’d be willing to bet there’s no scientific evidence behind it. It was amusing having my four male colleagues trying to explain to me – the only female present – what possible justification the instructor may have had, though.
Still, that’s the worst I’ve heard of Iyengar yoga, and there’s otherwise no other semi spiritual mumbo jumbo that goes on (apart from a brief “namaste!” With a nod over your hands in prayer at the end), so I’m planning on sticking with it.