B-I-N-G-O

Sorry, folks. I didn't really try BINGO tonight. Although that would have been fun. Rather, I went to a yoga class. And, sadly, it reminded me of playing BINGO.

Strange? Maybe a little. It took me about half of the 45-minute class to figure out how I'd describe it to others. Not as vinyasa yoga, mind you (which is what it was supposed to be). But BINGO.

In case you don't practice yoga, let me tell you this: you don't want want your yoga class to remind you of BINGO.

Seal 1. Silence, as all the BINGO fans scan their cards. Warrior 2. Still no BINGOs. Bent wrist pose. Silence.

Bent wrist pose? What the heck is that?

OK. So not only was I distracted by the fact that the class was reminiscent of BINGO, with the instructor calling out the names of the poses then saying nothing else in between, but I also spent a good portion of the time trying to figure out where the pose names came from. I had never heard of some of them before, and some poses that were pretty darn familiar had the strangest monikers. Not their Sanskrit names, mind you, but very American names unlike anything I've ever heard them called before. Which isn't to say they aren't reasonable names. Just a bit strange to this yogi.

I tried another yoga class at this same local gym about a year ago, but accidentally went to some sort of yoga fusion class that involved very little yoga and some strange weight-lifting exercises. So I hadn't been back since. But the new class schedule I got in the mail the other day listed a Yoga II class, and it said specifically it was for those experienced with yoga, so I decided to give it a try.

There were three other women and the instructor in the class with me tonight. The other three women regularly practiced at the gym. Good for them. The instructor informed me she called the class "slow flow." OK. Great. As long as there's "flow" in there, I'll be set.

Only, as I believe I mentioned, it wasn't flow, it was BINGO. There wasn't any flow at all. Get into a pose. Pause. Get out of a pose. Pause. Get into a new pose, after the instructor calls it out. It certainly wasn't like any level two class I've ever experienced before—no arm balances, no inversions except for plow, no flow. Sad.

Still, I'm glad to see that the other women in the class with me enjoyed it and keep coming back. It certainly wasn't for me, but any yoga is better than no yoga, right? And I did feel a bit looser, a bit more relaxed afterward, despite the fact that less-than-stellar yoga classes sometimes make me more tense than before I went to class.

Yet one more reason why I should just hurry up and become a yoga instructor myself, right? BINGO!