Fucking Yoga: I'm Back, Baby
For pretty much no good reason, I stopped going to Fucking Yoga for about two weeks. I was going to go last night, but got an offer I couldn't refuse, so yoga was pushed to tonight. Wednesday. I hate the Wednesday yogi. Then I almost didn't go tonight. There was a back-up getting on to the bridge which left my bus in terrible traffic, and I got home twenty minutes later than usual. I was tired. I wasn't ready to leave for yoga on time; and I hate being late for anything (except work, apparently, where I can't seem to arrive on time for the life of me). Yet somehow, I managed to pull my shit together, and arrive at yoga on time. Prepared for the annoying Wednesday teacher.
But for some reason, tonight there was a different yogi! A hot, male yogi! I was worried that after not yogging for two weeks, I'd be back to warrior pose one but no. I was downward dogging with the best of them. Okay the moderate of them. Regardless, I have a question about it: for those of you who do yoga, when downward dogging, how do you keep your hands from sliding out of place from the sweat?
At the end of class (may I just say, Mr. Hot Yoga Man, I really liked the pace you kept the class at tonight), we were doing a lot of "sit indian style and inhale" shit, and we did so much inhaling and exhaling that I thought there wasn't going to be any time for nap time. I was very excited. Before I give in to the foreshadowing provided above, I just want to shift topics slightly for a moment.
Hey Old Lady Yogger: You were NOT breathing right! I know you thought you were special with your oldness, your silver hair, your smiling at the people younger than you (a.k.a. Everyone Else), and your fancy mat. However. While I do not partake in the breathing, at least I keep quiet and don't distract anyone, while you were doing short I-am-breathing-through-contractions breathing, which was WRONG. Mr. Hot Yoga Man had said to breathe in for six counts, then out for six. That is NOT what you were doing, and you were fucking up my fantasies about Mr. Hot Yoga Man. That is NOT cool.
Ahem, so where was I? Oh yes, nap time. Mr. Hot Yoga Man announced nap time and just made it shorter than most Yogii do. Mr. Hot Yoga Man also said that when a thought comes into your head during nap time, you are to acknowledge it, and then send it on its way, clearing your mind completely. And because Mr. Hot Yoga Man was hot, I tried. I really, really did.
"That old lady is really annoying me." Oh hello, you must be a thought. What a lovely outfit you're wearing. I'm sorry, but we're not accepting thoughts at this time; please form a line to the left. We'll get to you as soon as we're available. You know who else isn't available? United Airlines. They always take forever to fix my flight issues. And my cable company! I called them about... wait a minute. Am I thinking? Yes, I'm almost positive these are thoughts. Mr. Hottie (in my fantasy he said I could call him that) said not to think. Stop it.
Okay, okay, this is me pushing United Airlines away. This is me in grade nine, baby, this is me in grade nine. I haven't heard a Dave Matthews song in a long time. Who would even admit to wanting a fur coat these days? Even if it's not real because that's just cruel. GREEN! Are you thinking, or are you napping?! Well, what's everyone else doing? Let's look. I think this chick next to me is a kiss-ass. She looks outright asleep! Mr. Hottie isn't that gullible. He's not impressed by your napping skills. Skillz. Somebody should do a rap about yoga. I'll take Things That Don't Go Together for $600, Alex. I haven't watched Jeopardy in AGES.
And that's me when my mind is CALM. After class was over, while I was sitting in the lobby putting my shoes and socks on, Old Lady Yogger walked by me and said, "Nice class." Ummm... okay. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? Why was she saying that to me? Shouldn't she say that to Mr. Hot Yoga Man? Wait, was she saying it to me because I was part of what made the class nice for her? Probably, since my breathing is done quietly, thus not interfering with hers. "You too," is what I went with.
But for some reason, tonight there was a different yogi! A hot, male yogi! I was worried that after not yogging for two weeks, I'd be back to warrior pose one but no. I was downward dogging with the best of them. Okay the moderate of them. Regardless, I have a question about it: for those of you who do yoga, when downward dogging, how do you keep your hands from sliding out of place from the sweat?
At the end of class (may I just say, Mr. Hot Yoga Man, I really liked the pace you kept the class at tonight), we were doing a lot of "sit indian style and inhale" shit, and we did so much inhaling and exhaling that I thought there wasn't going to be any time for nap time. I was very excited. Before I give in to the foreshadowing provided above, I just want to shift topics slightly for a moment.
Hey Old Lady Yogger: You were NOT breathing right! I know you thought you were special with your oldness, your silver hair, your smiling at the people younger than you (a.k.a. Everyone Else), and your fancy mat. However. While I do not partake in the breathing, at least I keep quiet and don't distract anyone, while you were doing short I-am-breathing-through-contractions breathing, which was WRONG. Mr. Hot Yoga Man had said to breathe in for six counts, then out for six. That is NOT what you were doing, and you were fucking up my fantasies about Mr. Hot Yoga Man. That is NOT cool.
Ahem, so where was I? Oh yes, nap time. Mr. Hot Yoga Man announced nap time and just made it shorter than most Yogii do. Mr. Hot Yoga Man also said that when a thought comes into your head during nap time, you are to acknowledge it, and then send it on its way, clearing your mind completely. And because Mr. Hot Yoga Man was hot, I tried. I really, really did.
"That old lady is really annoying me." Oh hello, you must be a thought. What a lovely outfit you're wearing. I'm sorry, but we're not accepting thoughts at this time; please form a line to the left. We'll get to you as soon as we're available. You know who else isn't available? United Airlines. They always take forever to fix my flight issues. And my cable company! I called them about... wait a minute. Am I thinking? Yes, I'm almost positive these are thoughts. Mr. Hottie (in my fantasy he said I could call him that) said not to think. Stop it.
Okay, okay, this is me pushing United Airlines away. This is me in grade nine, baby, this is me in grade nine. I haven't heard a Dave Matthews song in a long time. Who would even admit to wanting a fur coat these days? Even if it's not real because that's just cruel. GREEN! Are you thinking, or are you napping?! Well, what's everyone else doing? Let's look. I think this chick next to me is a kiss-ass. She looks outright asleep! Mr. Hottie isn't that gullible. He's not impressed by your napping skills. Skillz. Somebody should do a rap about yoga. I'll take Things That Don't Go Together for $600, Alex. I haven't watched Jeopardy in AGES.
And that's me when my mind is CALM. After class was over, while I was sitting in the lobby putting my shoes and socks on, Old Lady Yogger walked by me and said, "Nice class." Ummm... okay. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? Why was she saying that to me? Shouldn't she say that to Mr. Hot Yoga Man? Wait, was she saying it to me because I was part of what made the class nice for her? Probably, since my breathing is done quietly, thus not interfering with hers. "You too," is what I went with.
Labels: Yoga
posted by Green at 5/09/2007 10:21:00 PM
3 Comments:
Yahoo for hot yoga instructors!
Actually - yahoo for all hot men! I'm an equal opportunity ogler.
And I e-mailed you. I didn't get a non-delivery message, so I think it went through. If you get another message kicked back, let me know. I can give you my other address.
I did yoga twice in my life. Didn't like it much. Except for the hot yoga women contorting themselves.
Love the calm brain reenactment - mine does the same thing during yoga quiet time and drove me so nuts, I haven't been to a class in years. However, this summer, I'm getting back in so prepare for the hilarity.
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