FLAT BACK, ABS IN, BAKE A CAKE

James, the beloved Thai-Body-Sculpt class instructor, never let’s us forget where we are, lest we ever forget where we are.

“Some of you here are already shopping at Fairway,” he’ll jest as my mind runs through the pound cake ingredients I’ll need for Thanksgiving. “Now, come back to Planet Earth,” James commands. As I prop my right foot up against my inner left knee into the tree pose, it occurs to me that I need another bottle of vanilla extract.

“Plank position into Chaturanga.” Please, I hope Max’s fever doesn’t go above 100. There’s no way we can miss Thanksgiving. He’s got about 48 hours to lose this bug. “And now Cobra into Downward-facing Dog.”

It’s not the H1N1, and it’s probably not strep. Julian had the same symptoms a couple of weeks ago - it’s just your garden variety virus. There are plenty of them out there.

James saunters around the softly-lit room with a flawless dancer’s posture. He weaves unobtrusively through the rows and spots of exercisers, correcting or adjusting a pair of tense shoulders here, a pair of misdirected hips there. We follow James’ direction in unison, thinking about our abs, our thighs, our glutes. While I can’t speak for everyone else, I am sure there are at least a couple of mental shopping lists being reviewed as we exhale.

“Prayer-lunge, and up. Prayer-lunge, and up.” Did I put that permission slip into Julian’s backpack? Do I even know where it is? “And right into a deep plie. Deeper…hold for 8 – 7 - 6…Your thighs should be quivering now.” I’ll also pick up some vegetables. Two heads each of cauliflower and broccoli should be fine. I’ll roast everything Thursday morning before we hit the road…Max will be fine…

“Oh, my Lord,” James exclaims. “Some of you have released those abs into the wild! Bring ‘em on back in!”

After Thanksgiving, James, promise!