So hot yoga isn't going very well.
Not only is it hot as a Spanx'd crotch at closin' time in there, but there's this particular pose, the bow pose, which is supposed to look like this:
and just really doesn't when I try to do it.
I've spent the last few weeks flopping helplessly on my stomach like a gasping trout, reaching behind me for feet that simply are not there.
This morning, in class, as the instructor, Amy, (who wears incredibly distracting pink booty shorts) commanded all of us to get into the bow pose, I sighed inwardly, cursed, and arranged my belly on the mat.
I thrust out my chest.
I reached behind me.
My feet were there.
And...I grabbed them.
I didn't even think about it. I just grabbed them.
And then I realized the momentousness of what had just happened.
I had finally grabbed my fucking feet!! I was improving!
"HOLY SHIT!" I shrieked, dropping both feet so hard they smacked behind me like two wet mackerels.
The class came to a halt.
Everybody stared at me.
"Leeeeet's just focus on our breathing," said Amy.
Yesterday, I got dizzy in the heat, and instead of promptly sitting down on my mat and drinking water, I elected to not look like a pussy and "push through it."
I passed out.
Annnnd on Monday, this humongous gay manbear next to me in class was doing a deep bend from the waist, grabbing his ankles, and he farted.
You guys, he farted so loud.
Totally ripped one.
You're supposed to pretend like nothing happened when someone grunts or cuts one in class, but...I burst out laughing.
Loud, immature, inappropriate gales of laughter.
"Eeeeeverybody just focus on their own reflection in the mirror," said Amy.
They're starting to hate me at Bikram.
|[by terry b.]|
|(by Emily Tebbetts)|
|[Tawnya. Photo by Emma Freeman]|