I went to a yoga class with Natalie this evening. It is something that I promised her that I would do while she is visiting me. Yoga is something I appreciate, and I'm happy that other people do, but I'm not particularly interested in it myself.
Natalie searched online and found a by donation yoga studio, which means that you come and practice yoga for free and you donate what you can for the class. She picked me up from work, we stopped to eat and then headed over to the studio. Rang the bell and were promptly directed to the fourth floor by a smiling yogini.
"Fourth floor? I thought this was supposed to be on the second floor, now I have to walk up two more flights?"
I trudge up the staircases and reach the fourth floor, lallygagging behind Natalie.
I rent a mat from another nice yogini, change into my yoga clothes and we begin practice.There is a woman who could possibly be a post op transsexual beside me, with a painted on face, wearing entirely too much fragrance and making it very difficult for me to inhale freely.
I attempt maybe the first five moves before collapsing into Dead Man's pose and meditating for the rest of the class. Natalie said she had a fun time and that made me happy. Now I'm going to have to go undo all this twisting and turning at my next Chiropractor visit.
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