The bitch and I share the driver’s seat as I drive to the
studio.  She’s taking up most of the
space.

“Can you please find your own seat?”  I ask.    

“Shut up, bitch,” she snaps back.  

“Who do you think you’re talking to?  You’re the bitch!”

“Like you’re completely innocent.”

I turn up the music and block her out.  The seat feels pretty cramped, but I
manage. 

You may not see my inner bitch, even if we’re in the same room,
but every now and then, she takes over.   

Like today.

I’ve been holding some grudges, and every time that happens,
it turns me into a bitch.  And then, all
of the sudden, the bitch takes control.  If
I try hard enough, I’ll come up with a reason to grudge over you, even if
you’ve done nothing to me.  I can blame
my bad headspace on a lot of things, but it has very little to do with anyone
else but my current perception…and the fact that my inner bitch is just dying
to get some attention.

I get to the studio.

My students are packed into the hot room, with waters and
towels, eager to get started. 

“You’re going to have to stay outside,” I say to the bitch.

“Why?  You don’t think
I can handle Fight Club?”

“No, it’s a full house in here.  There’s no room.”

“There’s plenty of room for me,” the bitch replies. The only
space I’m taking up is in your head. I’m staying.”  

I open the class.  The
bitch tries to make a scene, but I do my best to ignore her. 

I start with a small reading from Yoga Journal on
forgiveness. 

I can tell the bitch feels a little threatened.

We begin our posture practice, cats and cows, downward
facing dogs, planks, and a few rounds of sun salutes.

I begin to forget that the bitch is even there.

We transition into our kick boxing segments.  Jabs, ducking, roundhouse kicks, and
punches. 

We laugh, we sweat. 
My perspiration drenched flashdane-y shirt, creeps off my shoulder.  One of my regulars, who appreciate my
fondness for off the shoulder tees smiles, as I discreetly tuck the edge of the
wide collar underneath my sports bra. 

Those side bangs that I am always obsessing over are
completely drenched.  They are a stiff
little clump of hair sitting on the middle of my forehead. I can only laugh at
how ridiculous they look and keep teaching.

We segue into Warriors. 
I walk around the room and check alignment while talking about our
inclination to divide ourselves from other people. Our instinct is often to
look at ourselves as “us,” and others as “them,” yet, when we look beyond the
perceived differences with those who oppose us in some way, we all share the
same basic commonalities.  We love our
families. We share the same basic fears. We want to be happy. We are all
striving to do the best we can, at any given time, even when we screw up
royally. In most cases, these screw ups come from a good place, or at the
least, a place that we go to protect ourselves, but not with the intention of
hurting others.

In my tangent, I make the students hold poses for too long.  Another regular gives me a smile and the eye
roll, which is my signal to take them into the next posture.  

We cool down, and I put my students into final
relaxation.  I sit there on my mat with
my eyes closed and breathe.  I feel
lighter. 

There is one less person in that room. 

And I don’t miss her.

Namaste, Divas!

©2012 Ilene Evans