Dear Life(122)

Pffffttttt…

Marisa inches closer to me, making it seem like we are in the midst of a couple’s yoga session.

“Marisa, you’re going to get us in trouble.”

Pfffftttt…

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble, looking up again to see the lady who is directly in front of Marisa’s mat adjust her legs, shaking her butt in the air, as if she’s trying to air out a bubble that’s been trapped in her spandex for days.

Marisa bumps my elbow with hers and gives me the stink eye. “I told you. Lady’s got the toots.”

“Be cool,” I say under my breath, not wanting to make the poor elderly woman with the saggy spandies and large panty line self-conscious. Yoga is a place to relax, not judge.

Pffffffftttt.

“Hey,” Marisa walks closer to the farter and whacks her ankle. “Lady, can you stop with the toots? I’m trying to breathe back here.”

“Marisa,” I hiss.

“Is there a problem, ladies?” The instructor comes up next to us, clearly unhappy with our disturbance.

Being the obnoxious person she is, Marisa releases from downward dog and sits on her butt, legs crossed. “This one right here, she keeps farting, and frankly it’s ruining my aura.” Marisa tosses her thumb at the poor elderly lady, calling her out.

“You have no aura,” I chastise her, humiliated for myself and Tooting Tanya.

“Edith, are you having some gastral issues today?” the instructor asks.

I prefer to call the lady Tooting Tanya. Alliterations make my tongue feel sparkly, but I accept the name Edith.

With a thump, Edith falls to the ground and looks up at the instructor, an impish look on her face. “I had the California Burrito from Alberto’s last night. Carne Asada never sits well with me.”

“I knew it was unprocessed meat I was smelling,” Marisa accuses, making me throw up a little in my mouth.

Edith shoots a death glare at Marisa. “It would be best if you mind your manners, young lady. When you get old, you will find it much harder to hold things in. Let this be a lesson to you.”

“I’m not worried,” Marisa leans back on her hands. “I’ve already started my Kegel exercises.”

Edith sits on her knees, inching closer to Marisa. “Flatulence gas comes from your butt, not your vagina.”

The threatening stance Edith displays doesn’t scare Marisa at all; it only encourages her. Getting up on her hands and knees, she positions herself in front of Edith’s face.

“No worries there either, Memaw. Unlike you, I don’t plan on partaking in anal orgies in my twenties like I’m sure you did. Things will keep tight, which is more than I can say for the wild roast beef that sits between your wrinkly thighs.”

The horrified look on Edith’s face matches mine as I break my pose out of pure shock.

“How dare you!” Edith roars, her hand rises to slap Marisa.

Being the ninja she is, Marisa rolls to the side, out of slapping range, and rips the yoga mat out from under Edith, causing the elderly woman to flip to her back with her legs in the air and camel toe of epic proportions on display. Marisa tosses the mat to the side, brushes off her hands, and says, “You’ve completely destroyed the ambiance in this class for me, mammy. I can’t even feel my bean sprouts or whatever the hell you call them.”

“Roots,” I subconsciously help her.

“Yeah, I can’t feel my roots, and you know what, Edith?” Marisa sneers her name. “I was feeling rather tree-like today. Thanks for wilting my branches with your sour carne asada puckered prune of an asshole. I hope you have diarrhea…”

“Okay,” I stop Marisa and grab my yoga mat as I stand, not even bothering to roll it, but instead wearing it like a veil to avoid eye contact with my classmates. “I think it’s time we leave.”

“And we would appreciate it if you don’t come back,” the instructor says, standing next to Edith, clearly choosing a side.

Mortification sets in as I dodge raised tailbone after raised tailbone and seek the exit while hiding my face from any onlookers. In the background, I can hear the instructor tell everyone to clear their minds and seek understanding for Edith.

Once we’re out of the class, Marisa goes off. “This is bullshit. We’re not the ones who were disturbing the class.”

She can be so dense sometimes. I give her a pointed look and grab my keys from the locker that sits just outside the room. “You were talking the entire time, you never once tried to communicate with Mother Nature and you called an elderly lady’s butt a puckered prune, she should have kicked us out sooner.”

“What? Are we not allowed to talk? What’s a gym if you can’t socialize?” We walk out the front of the gym and head toward our favorite smoothie bar. Marisa grabs my arm and says, “The only reason she wanted us to leave was because she is so obsessed with people listening to her perverted porn voice that she was threatened by our conversation.”

I check my phone while Marisa continues with her rant. A picture from Paul, my brother, pops up on my screen. He’s wearing a neon trucker hat that says McMann Clan across the top. I laugh to myself as I remember the days we used to wear such hats while traveling around the country with our mom and dad. I text him back.

Marley: Neon might be in, but that hat is just asking to be crucified by all fashion gods.