Misadventures of a Garden State Yogi by Brian Leaf

But in 1989 we were pretty much hemmed in between Al Bundy and Magnum P.I. Men can now hug and cry and do yoga and drink white wine and wear an apron and cook free-range chicken picatta. Why were there no other men on the bench outside that yoga class? Answer: this was 1989, before many guys did yoga.

Perhaps Menstruation and You or A Woman’s Guide to Dating at Georgetown, or, worst-case scenario, Aquatic Jazzercise. I wonder if I am mistakenly sitting outside a woman’s gathering of some sort. You’d think I’d feel great about this ratio, but, frankly, I’m terrified. I am seventeen years old and surrounded by thirty-one women, all wearing tight spandex.

I am brand-new to yoga, so I have no idea what’s going on. We’ve got freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors, and grad students, and they’re all women. I’m waiting on the bench as woman after woman shows up. It will also help if you include a few Members Only jackets and a pair of acid-washed jeans, and perhaps hum Bon Jovi’s I’ll Be There for You or Madonna’s Like a Prayer as a quiet sound track. This is 1989, so as you visualize this scene, incorporate lots of very tight spandex, neon sweatbands, leg warmers, and feathered hair. I selected yoga as the most exotic choice.įive months later, on day one of yoga class, I’m sitting on a long bench outside a classroom in Georgetown’s Yates athletic building waiting for the teacher to show up. I was choosing between jazz dance, squash, step aerobics, and yoga. Georgetown is a smaller school, so fewer courses are offered. So at the end of my senior year of high school, sitting on my toy soldier–themed comforter, I was preregistering for my Georgetown classes, and I wanted to round out my humanities and business courses with something similar to what Larry had taken at UVA. We couldn’t see James Bond needing Band-Aids to protect nipple boo-boos. Larry’s kung fu and riflery classes had us joking that he was covertly training for the CIA, but after the Band-Aids, as well as a miniature golf elective, we dropped the joke. After the marathon, Larry’s nipples were so chafed from rubbing against his sweaty shirt that he had to wear a Band-Aid on each side for a week. During his first semester, Larry took kung fu and riflery, and in the second semester he took skeet shooting and a class that helped train him to run a marathon.

The school is very large, so it can offer all sorts of fun electives, and there are enough students to fill even the most peculiar classes. When I was a senior in high school, my brother, Larry, was attending the University of Virginia. Ididn’t plan on getting so involved with yoga I sort of stumbled into it.

Misadventures of a Garden State Yogi by Brian Leaf