Our usual yoga teacher was sick yesterday so we had a substitute instructor.
B is wiry, bespectacled, and balding, a virtual clone of our only other male instructor, S. He seems nice, though, and he didn’t ask at the start of class whether any of us were menstruating, which is a nasty habit I wish S could rid himself of. Having said that, he wasn’t completely lacking in awkwardness regarding interactions with female devotees.
“I see you’re pregnant!” I heard him say to one Amazon with a tiny pot belly, before class. I raised my eyebrows at that, even though he was correct in this instance. One should never say that to a woman, but leave it to her to supply the information should she so desire. The only exception is when you can see the baby crowning. Too much room for hideous embarrassment on all sides. Disclaimer – sadly doctors often have to ask this question. Surely not yoga instructors, though?
I had a conversation at work reported to me this week. Someone was surprised to hear I was one of the departmental members who go to the male dominated yoga – or ‘Broga’ – sessions a couple of times a week. “Surely she’s more of a Barbie?” I’ve been mulling over this comment ever since I heard it.
