Me vs. Yoga

I drive excitedly to the yoga place.

I’m alone! In the car! No husband! No kid! Yay!

I walk in the door, my excitement spilling over to everyone. Smiles, happiness.

Look at me! I’m going to do hot yoga! Yay!

I get my mat in the studio.

Good god, it’s hot.

We begin.

Oh, that instructor is my fave. She’s so pretty! She’s so good! I love her. I love everyone! Look at that woman. Such balance! I love her. Yoga! Yay!

Fifteen minutes in…

Oh my god! I am so hot!!! Why am I doing this? yoga. yay.

Twenty minutes in…

Whose sweaty old lady thighs are those? Oh. They’re mine. Yuck. Why did I wear shorts?

Twenty one minutes in…

Fuck I’m hot! Fuck I’m hot! Fuck I’m hot! WHO FARTED?!? Fuck I’m hot! Fuck I’m hot! Fuck I’m hot!

I don’t know how long in…

She wants me to what? She’s outta her fucking mind! I bet she’s a real bitch! I think I hate her.

Eternity times infinity later…

WHY IS SHE TELLING ME TO BREATHE?I AM BREATHING! BITCH BETTER STEP OFF! NO ONE TELLS ME TO BREATHE UNLESS I’VE STOPPED BREATHING!

Infinity times infinity later…

whywhywhywhywhywhywhy am i doing this? how much longer? can i leave?

Ad infinitum later…

who invented this? what sick fuck ever in their right mind decided this was good for you?

Ad infinitum infinity later…

owowowowowowowowowowowowowow now who farted? Jesus christ.

Final relaxation (that means lying down for a while)…

Oh this is good… I did it! I survived! Yay!

In the locker room…

Wow! That was awesome! I feel so good! Will you be here tomorrow?

Why yes. I think I will. I’m just masochistic enough to do it again.

Yoga. Yay.

4 thoughts on “Me vs. Yoga

  1. You have just perfectly put to words my exact thought process every single time I do any form of exercise. Minus the “yay” at the end. Even once I’ve limped my way back home, wine glass in hand, I’m still at the “fuck that shit” stage.

Go on. Talk to Mama Duck.

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