In 2016, I was fighting for wellness in several different areas of my life, and I knew I needed to move my body more. I had always been interested in yoga but aside from one class in college, had not set foot in a group setting. After a lot of research, I found a place that claimed to offer yoga for “Real people” and even had a special series just for beginners.

The day I went to the first class, I put on a racerback tank and some leggings. It’s the kind of thing I’d wear at home while practicing yoga on my own, or maybe on walks in my quiet neighborhood. In the car on the way over, I had a flash of anxiety and my stomach started to churn. I had just processed that I wouldn’t be wearing this outfit alone but rather in a classroom with 20+ people. It was hot and I didn’t even have a wrap. I suddenly felt naked. I didn’t have enough time to go back home and change. I kept driving. I share this because I want you to know that I was already in an insecure headspace before I even got there.

The teacher was friendly. In her introduction, she shared that outside of yoga she was a counselor who worked with people with disordered eating, which heartened me for a moment. Unfortunately, it didn’t last.

Class started and while most of it wasn’t horrible, it just didn’t feel right. We were too crowded together. When we folded forward, I couldn’t breathe. When we balanced, I wobbled. The positions felt weird to me and even dressed as I was, I was way too hot. The teacher’s cues didn’t seem to line up with what physically possible for me. I assumed that meant there was something wrong with my body.

At one point, the teacher said we had to lay on the floor on our backs and put our elbows on the floor. Then she said we had to make the fingers of both hands touch at the belly button. I found that I could either put my hands on my belly button and have my elbows hang off the sides, or I could put my elbows on the floor but then my hands fell somewhere at the rib cage. My eyes pricked with tears as I thought about my big belly.

Then she had us flip to our bellies and we were supposed to place our hand down by our hips with palms up and then place our foreheads on the floor. But when I lay on my belly, my breasts precluded my head reaching the floor. We were supposed to be relaxing but I was holding the weight of my head up with just my neck. The teacher said, “if you’re not 100% comfortable raise your hand, and I’ll come to you.” I had a feeling this was aimed at me, but I thought to myself: 1) No way am I raising my hand and bringing attention to myself and 2) Anyway, I won’t be 100% comfortable until I’m safe at home and out of these clothes.

In the car on the way home, I cried and cried. Years later, I understand that this person, who was probably well-meaning, simply did not know how to teach bodies that weren’t like hers. She was tall, thin, long-limbed, young, and fully-abled. She made points of reference to our bodies as those ours were built exactly like hers. I am not defending her; that’s not an okay way to behave unless you’ve made those assumptions clear before you invite people to class. But at the time, I thought she was the Expert and I was the Student and that meant what she said was law. So when I couldn’t follow her law, I thought that she was Right and I was Wrong.

The beginner class was a 4-week series and I tried not to think about the next week. As each day went by, I got more and more nervous about going back. I checked the policy and no refunds were possible. At some point, something in my brain clicked and I thought: The money is gone either way. You don’t have to go back. So, I didn’t.

I still wanted to practice yoga, but I wasn’t sure where to go from here. Luckily, it was about to get a lot better.