The Twig 'N Berries Coalition

As you have all probably read by now, I have, essentially, sold my soul to the False Guru and thrown myself fully into the practice of Bikram yoga. While in America, I didn't like the practice at all. I found it painfully dull. For those of you not obsessed with yoga and its different forms, Bikram Yoga was developed by this guy--Bikram Choudhury--who thought that practicing the same sequence in a hot room all the time would be sweet. And it would earn him TONS of money, because any idiot who can get a publisher to agree to a book on a new, exciting form of yoga is likely to be a millionaire, even if the yoga sucks and causes massive amounts of injuries.

In Bikram's case, the only injuries reported are to his reputation. He is a well-documented egomaniac and Rolls Royce-driving asshole. Something about a "guru" driving a Rolls doesn't sit well with me, but who am I to judge? Well, I'm the one writing the blog, so judge I shall. I am aware that Bikram charges the most (about 9 grand last time I checked, which was about 5 years ago) for his teacher training. He is also not particularly nice to his students, yelling at them from the throne on which he teaches that "Suzanne needs to eat less cookies and practice trikonasana more!" I use myself as an example not because I have been in one of his classes, but because he proudly proclaims in his book to have said such a thing to a student. As my copy of his book is currently in transit from America, I am unable to quote directly. But I remember. I remember thinking 'what an asshole'.

I am thinking about doing a yoga video myself, not to take advantage of misinformed beginning students, but because I teach differently than anyone I've seen, and there is a market for what I do. Love it or hate it, the choice is up to the buyer. I plan to include a disclaimer that the video is not intended as a substitute for working with a good teacher, but, rather, to supplement an already-established practice with a fun, ass-kicking 90 minutes of yoga. The truth is, yoga DVDs can be a dangerous thing, since there is no teacher in the room to correct form and help prevent injury, but people love 'em, still email me for recommendations on them all the time, and will buy them if they are on the shelves. Ah, capitalism. Until I can pick out a house and a car and pay no money, ever, I am in the money-grubbing free-for-all with everyone else.

Except I need neither a throne nor a Rolls. A comfy chair for my living room, and a Harley-Davidson for the streets of Tel Aviv, maybe, but nothing that makes strangers wonder if yoga is really nothing more than another way for pricks to make millions.

Because yoga is a beautiful thing--the thing I have chosen to build my life around for the last several years. I have even found the beauty in the series I previously found completely and unforgivably tedious. Part of it is that I don't understand Hebrew, and all the classes I go to are in that language. This enables me to totally focus on how my body feels in each pose, and I have made great strides in a short period of time because of this. There is incredible beauty in feeling that a pose is right, in getting that 'aha' moment when you know that something in your mind/body connection has clicked together. I snap out of my little world only when my favorite teacher comes over to me in between sets and corrects my form quietly, and in perfect English. I also get the smug 'n happy face when I hear "metzuyan, Suzy", which means "excellent, Suzy". Not bad for the chick who didn't want anything to do with Bikram Yoga for the past 6 years. And I have to admit that the way the sequence moves from backbend to forward fold to backbend to forward fold for 26 postures, and because of the nature of each pose and the manner in which it follows the last, inspires me to think that, jackass or not, Bikram was onto something. I am particularly fond of his realization that muscles are much more pliable in heat. A standard Bikram practice is led in a room heated to between 38-41 degrees Celsius, or approximately 90-110 degrees Fahrenheit. Yummy. I love the sweat. Bikram gets the standing ovation from me for that, anyway.

But then there is the issue of Dress Code. Bikram Dress Code is different than regular yoga dress code. In Bikram Yoga, the less you wear, the more you fit in. Most of the female students wear "hot yoga shorts", which I have often referred to as "ass shorts". "Ass Shorts", when you bend over, or if you aren't blessed (or cursed, depending on your perspective) with the kind of tuchis my friend Ida calls 'two scoops'--a nicer term for a tiny heiney--show at least a third of your ass-cheeks. I marvel at the women who walk into the room wearing shorts that are smaller than some of the underwear I own, displaying partial cheekage and often imperfect thighs. Bless them for their confidence in their own bodies. More power to them for feeling so comfortable in their own skin, regardless of its condition. But ladies, please. I have even seen a young lady come to class wearing underwear. Yes, it was black and would, therefore, not become see-through as the class commenced, but I know underwear when I see it, and I didn't expect to see it so clearly out there, in lieu of shorts or pants. Women also generally wear only a sports bra on top, which is fine. Again, that comfort in one's own skin is so uncommon in America, and I am impressed by it, regardless of what size the woman is. I am definitely the stand-out American in class, wearing full-length yoga pants, a sports bra, and some kind of wife-beater over it. I show my belly only during the final breathing exercise, because it is important that the breath come from the belly, and I prefer to watch mine expand and contract as I breathe. Then my tank top comes back down and I roll onto my back for final relaxation.

But then there are the men. Ah, the Men of Bikram Yoga. They are all shirtless, regardless of weight or amount of body hair. I get it--it's hot in there, and they don't have breasts (not most of them, anyway) to cover. But the bottoms that they wear. I am nearly speechless.

And yet here come the words. Oh...My...God...

Some wear spandex shorts that are long. Okay, I've seen one guy who does this. The rest wear either Bill-Clinton-Onion-Skin running shorts, Speedos, or even underwear proudly displaying its designer. I have seen Calvin Kleins and Tommy Hilfigers. And I'm not talking boxer-briefs here. I'm talking briefs. Tightey-Whiteys that are, thank God, either navy blue or black. It is this group of men that I have named "The Twig 'N Berries Coalition", dubbed so because of what often becomes visible, whether in clear outline or actual, well, visibility during certain postures. FYI: Jewish men are circumcised. Have doubts? Come to class with me. One day, I began to fall out of a pose and was, therefore, not focusing on myself in the mirror for a brief (no pun intended) moment. In that briefest of moments, I noticed that a guy in the front row, wearing black Calvins, was sporting wood.

Being the professional yogi that I am, I was able to return my focus to getting back into the posture, after only a second or two of looking at the floor and grinning. It probably wasn't my best Dandayamana-Dhanurasana ever, but that guy's wood probably had little to do with it. I had, after all, lost my balance before I ever caught a glimpse of his happy unit.

So, 5 days a week, for 90 minutes each time, I am the most conservatively-dressed person in a room full of women in ass shorts and sports bras, and the Twig 'N Berries Coalition. Coming soon to a yoga studio near you.