Monday, October 26, 2009


HotMess and I went to hot yoga yesterday. Or, at least, we thought we did. Obviously neither of us read the schedule, and we accidentally wound up in a 90 minute extreme stretch class.

Oh holy fuck.

Of course we still had no idea that we had entered this new, fresh hell. 45 minutes into the class and we both had been holding our ankles over our heads for 20 minutes using special yoga straps (weird, why are we so good at this pose?), there are 9 inch bricks under our tailbones to fold us inside out, and we're both still waiting for the actual yoga to start.

Another 45 minutes later and we've both been holding deep birthing-style squats for 15 minutes, stretching our hip flexors and birth canals to the point of paralysis, and it's finally occured to us that maybe we took the wrong class. The hysterical laughter started, which is frowned upon in extreme stretch class, so then we had to try to muffle it. While in extreme birthing squat. I might have actually birthed one of my ovaries.

We should have known that we had walked into the wrong class right from the get-go. Usually our class is filled with 20-something yuppies in perfect yoga-body shape, all glistening perfect lady sweat in the 100 degree yoga room. When we walked into yesterday's class and lay out our matts, I was slapped in the face with an overwhelming yet distinguishable scent.

ThePeach: *lifts hips into downward dog, whispers* Why does it smell like balls in here?
HotMess: *lowers hips into resting child pose, whispers* Because the room is full of balls.

Men. Men everywhere. Old, topless men.

Extreme stretch:

Bad choice.



Anonymous said...

Old man ball sweat - yack! Try being in the same change rooms as them!

HotMess said...

I had a dream last night I gave birth to twins.

Who knew one ball-filled-stretch class could do so much damage?

Never again.