I’ll Take Some Exercise, With a Side of STFU

I don’t like to talk a lot. I especially don’t like to talk to people while I am working out.  I go to the gym to put my headphones in, listen to some music, be one with my thoughts, get some endorphins, and feel better – physically and mentally.  It’s my quiet time.
I loooooved yoga at my gym, with one teacher in particular. The sessions with her were awesome, but for whatever reason she stopped teaching the weekend class that I always attended.  This made me particularly sad when I found out that I was pregnant.  24 Hr Fitness has absolutely no pre-natal yoga classes. In fact, they have no pre-natal classes of any kind in the Las Vegas area. This teacher, though, had pregnant women in her class and knew how to modify the poses so they could safely practice.  Since my second trimester started (and even before that) I have searched for an affordable yoga class. Yoga at a yoga studio is some expensive shit and there is no way in hell that I can find the time and the quiet at home, so getting a stupid video is out of the question.  I can barely go to the bathroom without someone asking where I am or what I’m doing. (Those of you who may be pregnant with your first child, be warned: you will never pee in peace again)
When I found a Groupon for 20 sessions at a Pilates/yoga studio that had pre-natal classes, I was ecstatic.  I looked at the calendar, picked a Sunday afternoon class and set my heart on going over the weekend. Granted, the calendar had this class listed as Pre-natal/Post natal/Baby&Me…so I knew that it would be a mix of people, but I didn’t care.  I was hoping that the other women would be there for the same thing I was, to get some exercise and some time for themselves.  How wrong I was.
The class consisted of myself, two other young moms with babies about 5 months old, and the very pregnant teacher.  The class was not yoga, but some floor exercise class/chat session. I’m laying on my side, doing endless leg circle thingies while the teacher and other ladies carry on a conversation about how wonderful fucking motherhood is and how damn precious their children are. All the moms were first time moms and teacher was pregnant with number two, while her first child is still under 2 years of age.  I learned all about their gestational diabetes, whether or not their babies had gas, how to soothe said gas issues, what brand of Tucks to use on your ass/perineum, that one mother had a problem with getting her husband to stop cussing and saying the word retard, that the other mother (who is the potty mouth in her family) is in serious need of a pedicure because she had toenails that would rival the worst google images on toenail fungus (how is her husband attracted to that? she must wear socks a lot), and that (thank the universe) this class was being cancelled because teacher was going on maternity leave. I tried to block the rest out, but these two snippets fought their way through the curses going on in my head:
“Of course I just want a healthy baby, but I just looove little girls!  After having my first and interacting with her, I’m really wanting another girl, because I just can’t imagine what it’s going to be like to have another perfect little amazing being like her…” Reality check lady: All children are not the same. Your next one could be the spawn of Satan and I guarantee that none of your children will act anything alike…unless one is copying the other, which is one of the most annoying things on the planet.
“I always wanted to be a mother. I just love every single minute of it.  It upsets me so much when women have babies just because they got pregnant. You know, the women who say, “well I never thought I would be a mother or wanted to be, but I got pregnant, so here I am”. First of all, that second sentence is a flat out fucking lie. There is not a single mother on Earth who loves every single second of raising a child. Seriously. We all love our children, but you are no Saint, Mrs. Pregnant Pilates Teacher. And not all babies are planned, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t loved enough or that the woman who never thought she would have children won’t be the best mother on the block, either. Shit.
I’ll never make it in a Baby & Me group of any sort.

It was my own version of Hell. Luckily, I only had to be there an hour.  After that hour, the teacher politely let me know what other classes I could attend that were suitable for pregnant women. One of those just happens to be a candlelight Hatha class…at night. No babies. No talky mothers. Just me, my body, some candlelight, and some soothing music.
On a side note, I just checked the yoga schedule at the gym, and I think my fave teacher is back. I may just have to do a recon mission on Saturday morning to confirm this.


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