294. Yoga

I don’t really know how it happened but Isla talked me into going to a yoga class with her last night. I don’t really know what I expected – perhaps a cross between Sting and his tantric nonsense and Dhalsim the super stretchy guy from Streetfighter II.

The next hour was spent with me contorting myself into crazy positions while trying not to slide around the mat due to the sweat that was lashing off me. I was totally useless at it. I had difficulty sitting on my heels for any length of time and it was almost impossible for me to then lean backwards and start thrusting my abdomen forwards. Also being on all fours and raising the opposite arm and leg off the ground was purely comical and I spent half my time trying not to laugh and the other half trying not to fall over.

It all came to a head at the end though when I was curled up in a ball face down while Isla lay on my back crushing me into the ground which resulted in me using fibre of my body to try and contain the fart that was desperate to escape. “What are you laughing at? Take it seriously will you!” was answered with “I just can’t help it! Haha. Sorry. No really, I’m sorry!”

Luckily the badness didn’t make an appearance until we left the building.