Kim the Yoga Teacher (PG-13)

I had another yoga class last night with Kim, the young yoga teacher who inspired "Odd Yoga Story."  I wonder what she would think if she read these stories? 

*****

At the end of the yoga class, as everyone rolled their mats and made small talk as they moved toward the door, I helped Kim put away the blankets and cushions. 

"That was a tough class," I said.  "You sure make me realize how bad of a shape I'm in."

Kim smiled sweetly, patiently.  "Yoga's not a competition," she reminded me.  "There aren't any winners.  We each have our own journey."

I nodded, but that lovey-dovey yoga stuff annoyed me sometimes.  "You're right," I agreed.  "But it's easy for you to have that attitude.  I come from a competitive background."

Kim turned from the stack of blankets to study me.  Her big brown eyes appraised me from head to toe.  I waited, wondering what she was thinking.  After a few seconds she spoke.  "What are you really afraid of?" she asked.  "Are you upset that a girl might be stronger than you?  That a class of mostly women might be more athletic than you are?"

I laughed.  "Now that's not a very yoga-like thought."

Kim replied, straight-face.  "I know it's not.  But I think that's what you're worried about.  That's what's holding you back, isn't it?  Fear of being weaker than a woman."

"But I'm not weaker!" I argued.

"That's not the point," Kim said.  "It's not whether you really are weaker, the point is that you're afraid of being weaker."

"Since I know I'm not, what does it matter?"  This was starting to make me angry.

Kim smiled.  "Do you really know?  You sure were sweating a lot, and your legs were quivering  all through class.  How do you know I'm not stronger than you?"

"Well, we could always wrestle," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I think that might be a good idea," Kim said, padding over to the door of the studio and turning the lock.  She turned back to me and lifted her hands, fingers extended--challenging me to a classic test of strength.

"Really think you can beat me?" she asked, walking toward me, offering her small hands.  "Why don't you try?  You need to get past this fear."

Instinctively I took a step back.  "I don't want to hurt you," I said, hesitation and confusion in my voice.

"You're not going to hurt me if you keep backing up," Kim giggled.  "See, you are afraid.  You're running away from a hundred pound girl."

"OK, then," I said, holding my ground.  I held out my own hands, and we tentatively interlaced our fingers.  My hands nearly engulfed hers.  Kim's fingernails, normally painted black, were dark blue today.  We stood for a moment, both exerting firm pressure but not yet fighting.

"Ready?" she asked through her glossy lips.

"Yeah," I grunted.

"Go!" she shouted.  Immediately my strength advantage was clear.  I began forcing her hands backward and down.  My height also gave me leverage.  I took a step forward, forcing her back.  Slowly I increased the pressure and started pushing her hands further down.  Her arms twisted toward herself, and she gritted her teeth with effort.

"See, I told you I was stronger," I gloated, stepping forward again and forcing Kim onto her back on the floor.  I moved forward to straddle her, my adrenaline pumping.  But I had forgotten that Kim was a yogi...flexible and strong.  Before I could sit on her, she had pulled her legs up in between us.  Her knees at her chest, she thrust her feet toward my chest. 

"Don't celebrate yet, big boy," Kim said.  I tried to force her legs down with my body, hoping to bend her in half.  Amazingly, though, she was able to keep me at bay, her small feet digging into my chest and neck.  Our hands were still locked, our fingers intertwined and squeezing intensely. 

I concentrated on positioning my weight directly over her to give myself the maximum advantage as I tried to bend and crush her.  Just when it seemed that she would collapse in half beneath me, Kim somehow locked her ankles around my neck--the insteps of her feet at my carotid arteries, her toes touching each other at the nape of my neck--and twisted her body, throwing me to the side. 

Now, suddenly, I was the one who was trapped!  We lay on our sides on the hardwood floor.  Kim's slim legs were amazingly strong.  Her legs were crossed at the knees so she could use a scissoring motion with her ankles around my neck, the top of her right foot pressing against the right side of my neck, the top of her left foot against the left side of my neck.  Obviously I could have pried her legs apart and freed myself...but our fingers were still intertwined.  Now her small hands held my large hands captive.  Her fingernails dug into the skin on the back of my fingers as I tried to work my hands free.  I had forgotten until this second that Kim was also a rock-climber, and thus had surprisingly strong hands for a hundred-pound girl. 

"Who's stronger?" Kim taunted.  I flailed helplessly in her grip.  She shook my head back and forth with her feet, demonstrating her dominance. 

Eventually I worked myself off my side and up to my knees, trying again to bend Kim in half and crush her.  This time I was careful not to allow her to twist to one side or another.  All the while Kim was asking me what it was like to know that a girl was stronger than me.  Anger and frustration boiled inside me.  Finally I jerked one hand free, then the other, then pried myself from Kim's feet, falling backward to the floor with a thud.

I sat there, massaging the sides of my neck, as Kim gracefully rose to her feet.

"So," she said, "how is it going, facing your fear?  What's it like to realize that a girl might be stronger than you?  Scary, yeah?"

I didn't look up at her as she spoke.  My gaze rested on the floor.  She stepped forward so that I was staring at her feet.  Her toenails were painted blue like her fingernails. 

"Want to go another round?" Kim asked.  "Or was that enough?"

"You're not stronger," I grunted.

Kim laughed.  "Maybe not.  But I'm not weaker, am I?  It's OK, you know.  It's OK for a girl to be stronger than you are." 

I was confused, frustrated, scared. But when I looked up at Kim and saw her tuck her chestnut hair behind her ears, anger replaced all those other emotions.  Still sitting on the floor, I held my hands up, challenging her to another round, another test of strength.

"Round two," she said, stepping forward to interlace her fingers with mine. 

This time she began with the edge leverage she she was standing and I was seated, and she took full advantage.  Quickly she bent my wrists backward--apparently my strength had been drained from our previous struggle--and pushed me to my back.  Grunting in anger and effort, I tried to duplicate her strategy of pulling my legs to my chest to force her away, but my lack of flexibility coupled with her quickness foiled that attempt.  In seconds she had straddled my chest, pinning me flat on my back.  I pushed my feet into the floor, trying to bridge my body upward, but Kim rode me easily, like a cowgirl breaking a tired horse.  I could see the wiry muscles ripple in her thin arms as she pressed my hands down to the floor.  She released my fingers but quickly seized my wrists, pushing my arms painfully onto the hardwood.  As my bucking and squirming waned, Kim slid ever further forward and pressed her knees onto my biceps, pinning me helplessly to the floor.  Her feet pressed firmly, painfully, into the sides of my ribcage.

Kim released my wrists and sat upright.  Again she tucked her hair behind her ears. 

"I'm stronger than you are," she said simply.

I wanted to argue, but how could I?  I was completely helpless beneath her. 

"It's important to confront your fears," Kim went on.  "Well, now you know that this fear was true.  You were afraid a girl might be stronger than you.  You just discovered that really is the case, yeah?"

I didn't answer.  I just stared up at her, at her big brown eyes drilling holes in me.  I squirmed in vain beneath her, unable to dislodge her even a little bit.

"You need to admit it," said Kim.  "Say it."

"No," I managed to say.  My voice was high and cracked.

"Say it.  You have to face it.  Say 'Kim is stronger than me.' "

"No."

"Say it!  Say, 'Kim owns me.' I'll make you say it."

"No," I begged.

"I'm going to make you admit it," Kim said, a smile on her glossy lips.  "It's for your own good," she continued.  "If you didn't realize it, I'm completely in control right now.  I can control everything about you...even your breathing, yeah?  So if you want to breathe, you need to say it."

I tried to protest but Kim's small palm cut off my words as she sealed my mouth.  With her other hand she pinched my nose shut.  I squirmed and struggled and bucked, but she held me tightly.  I could only look up into her glowing face as she smiled and continued talking.

"I've beaten you, yeah?  Just admit it.  All you have to do is admit that a girl is stronger than you, and I'll let you breathe.  Ready to say it?  Blink twice if you're going to say it."

My vision was already getting dim when I blinked and blinked again.  I'm not sure if it was even twice or three or four times.  As soon as Kim took her hand from my mouth I blurted, "You're stronger!  You beat me!"

Kim smiled.  "Didn't that feel good?  Isn't it good to look your fears in the eye?  Now say it again.  Say, 'Kim is stronger than I am.  Kim owns me.' "

"Kim is stronger than me.  Kim owns me!  You own me!"

"Good boy," she said.  "That felt good, saying that didn't it?"

I didn't answer.  I just lay there, frustrated, confused.  Kim swung one of her legs around and rested one of her small feet on my face. 

"Kiss it," she commanded.  She wiggled her toes over my lips insistently.  Hesitantly I puckered, then kissed her foot.  "Kiss each toe," she commanded.  I complied, deepening my humiliation.

"Feels nice to face your fears, yeah?" she asked.  "Say it again.  Who owns you?"

"Kim owns me," I said.