Last week, I thought I was being shot at during a yoga class. It’s embarrassing, but I can explain.
It was a special class featuring a live DJ, and my mat was positioned near the speakers. While DJ Mantra was making some technical adjustments, something backfired or short-circuited, which caused a huge kaboom! I swear it sounded like a gunshot. From downward facing dog, I hit the deck and reflexively curled up in a ball, protecting my head. Good instincts, right? Except for one crucial fact: I WAS IN A YOGA CLASS. Not a war zone. Not on a hunting trip. Not stranded in a back alley in gang territory. Not, even, visiting a movie set where gunfire is simulated. A yoga studio: where the most violent crimes against humanity include leaving your cell phone on and flatulence.
My dear friend, Chanel Luck, who was teaching class, found the whole scene highly entertaining (who could blame her?), but, although ridiculous, she'd probably tell you it wasn't totally out of character to those who know me best. In other words, I'm great at making a fool of myself. It's not a frequent occurrence, per say, but when I humiliate myself, I do a really thorough job, especially in athletic settings.
There was the time, as a teen, when I got stuck in a rowing machine while admiring a cute boy at the gym. My T-shirt snagged under the seat, rendering me trapped, and the gym staff had to use scissors to cut me free. The back of the shirt had a giant chunk missing afterward, so I told people I'd been attacked by a shark.
More recently, I nearly knocked myself unconscious while golfing with Om Bro, my Dad, and my then new beau. We'd just teed off in a friendly tournament, when I hustled back to the cart. Unfortunately, the roof of the cart was precisely my height, so I slammed my head full-force into the cart, falling flat on my back (thank goodness for the semi soft landing of a manicured green). My Dad and beau were stunned in silence. From the ground, in my KO'd state, I could only hear my brother, exasperated and more than a little amused, "Rebecca, are you serious?"
Yes, I am serious. A serious klutz. A serious hazard to myself, even in sports and activities with as little contact as yoga, indoor rowing, and golf. Sad, isn't it? So, now that I've shared some of my more colorful, more embarrassing moments with you, it's your turn, om guys and gals.
Tell me about your most embarrassing yoga or athletic moment. I have a feeling there will be a lot of anonymous comments on this one . . .
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