Pregnant Yoga for Dudes

I have to admit--I went to pregnant yoga. In fact, I have been twice. The second time, however, was a big let down compared to the first time.

The first time there were other dudes there. We were like a pack and we suffered together; we made jokes and faltered in all the stretches. When it came to putting ourselves in a compromising poses that made us look weak, together we hemmed and hawed until the instructor gave up trying to make us do it. So I said, not so bad; I can get the valued supportive-husband through pregnancy points and not give up my manhood. I assented to the next pregnant yoga class with less reservation.

The second time my brothers in stretch did not show. Maybe there was a memo or a message sent subliminally during a recent Spurs game, but I didn't get it. Instead, I showed up.

All the yogic energies aligned against me. First, the instructor sharpened her "guys really don't like coming to this" schtick. Usually it kind of gives guys an outlet. For example, the class get long in the "ohm" or the poses have us one leg up and in tandem warrior poses like a snap shot of a synchronized swimming event. I can look to another guy and we can round the wagons and grunt. The instructor can pass off the moment by smiling and letting us know its all for our partners. This time i was the only one; so no brother to look over to, only me grunting to myself and really making me feel like a reluctant tool.

Second, Kelly, the pregnant one, really showed me up. Given, she had been coming regularly to the non-partner yoga classes. But on several occasions she asked me if that was as far as I would go. I felt like I was bending over a fence and could only go so far.

The good thing about being the only couple is that it ended early. I hope I get the next memo.