9
Just Friends
Ivy
Every single muscle inmy body is screaming.
I was sore after the yoga class with Theo and Lucy, but after my deeply unwise decision to do another full session at home, I’ve officially ascended to a new level of physical misery.
Walking to Pee-Pee’s office feels like some kind of cruel endurance test. Every step sends a fresh wave of pain through my legs. My arms ache every time I lift them. Even my ribs hurt.
What kind of exercise makes your ribs hurt?
I reach the steps of her office and grip the railing like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. One step. Two. Three—ow.
If Pee-Pee asks how I’m feeling today, I might just collapse, stare at the ceiling, and inform her that self-improvement is a scam.
I lower myself onto Pee-Pee’s therapy sofa with the grace of a one-legged giraffe, groaning as my legs protest the movement.
Pee-Pee watches me over the rim of her glasses. Her trusted cardigan is a pastel shade of peach today. “Rough morning?”
I let out a dramatic sigh. “Phyllis, I have made a terrible mistake.”
She clasps her hands together, looking far too intrigued. “Do tell.”
I wave a limp hand. “Yoga.”
She smiles knowingly. “Ah. First step of finding yourself.”
“The only thing I found was pain,” I correct. “No one warns you about that part. They all make it sound so calm. So zen.” I gesture vaguely in the air. “‘Oh, just breathe through it, Ivy. Just find your inner stillness, Ivy. Just contort yourself into unnatural shapes while pretending this is completely fine, Ivy.’”
She chuckles. “Walk me through it.”
I sigh. “Well, I failed on my first try and then Theo dragged me to the parent and kids’ yoga session. And after that I thought I can do the stupid Yoga for Dummies thing. So I promised myself, this time will be different. I’ll be serious about it. No skipping ahead. No quitting halfway through. No dramatic flopping onto the floor and declaring myself unfit for human movement.”
Pee-Pee nods, looking amused. “Go on.”
“So, there I am, stretching, bending, definitely not shaking,” I lie. “But don’t even get me started on Downward Facing Dog—because apparently, I have zero upper body strength.”
Pee-Pee bites back a smile. “And yet, you did the whole session.”
I pause, slightly begrudging. “I did.”
She raises an eyebrow. “And?”
I sigh again, slumping dramatically. “And it wasn’t horrible until I woke up this morning.”
She looks far too satisfied with that answer. “So, you might actually enjoy it?”
I scoff. “Let’s not get carried away.”
She leans back in her chair. “You said before that you’ve always fallen into things… relationships, activities, decisions, without really choosing them for yourself. Would you say yoga was something you chose?”
I frown slightly. “I mean… technically, yes.”
She nods. “And how did it feel to commit to something just for you?”
I hesitate.
