9:07 I sit on my mat at and ponder the other class members. Diary Girl, for instance – why does she bring her journal to a group exercise class? I wonder if she is recording how she feels about the stretch in her calves during downward facing dog, and the deep emotional issues that well up within her as she tries to maintain a neutral spine in plank.
A local accent draws our attention, a voice that is much too awake for 9:09 am. Townie Lady has an expired pass. Yes, it’s so old that it’s no longer legible, but she didn’t know they expire. Can she stay anyway? There is time to buy a one-visit pass before class starts, and it costs three dollars. Townie Lady’s purse is in her car. The Pilates instructor is graceful but firm, and Townie Lady leaves.
9:15 We are all eager to begin deepening our breath and lengthening through our spine when the sleepy peace is again disrupted. Townie Lady scans the full room, imagines a choice spot in the second row, and wedges herself between Good Cook and Diary Girl.
Diary Girl suggests that they might be too close. Townie Lady tells Diary Girl to scoot.
As Diary Girl moves without a word of reply, Townie Lady unrolls a bath towel over her mat. Does she have a sweating problem? Diary girl returns to her journal with new vigor to answer this question.
