Yoga. Yoga is not an exercise that is conducive to the CrossFitter lifestyle for oh-so-many reasons. Serene music opposed to death metal jam. Words like “Chaturanga” and other un-comprehendible bullshit instead of “Lift it Muther Fucker!” “Final Savasanawhathefuck” meditation instead of laying face first in a trash can vomiting your brains out while gasping for air. But you know what... I can be all serene and shit. Bring it on!
Where to start?? Holy shit balls it was hot in the room, and humid as a muther fucker. Like 120 fucking degrees. I had ass sweat before we even started. In the class, women... women... and more women. Skinny, bendy women wearing tight pants and tiny weenie little bras. I REALLY was not in my element. I immediately cased the room and assured myself I could kick the shit out of each and every one of them. I’m talking bar fight, not WOD (first un-yogi thought). We hadn’t even started yet and I was miserable hot, sweating in unsanitary places and ready to pick a fight with the first peaceful minded bendy bitch that looked at me.
Of course, being the shy, wall-flower like girl I am I picked a spot in the front of the room. Ya know why? Because I really don’t give a fuck! If I’m going to suck at something, I’m going to suck it BIG with pride in the front of the whole fucking room.
Within minutes I was really fucking light headed (I’m pretty sure I was sweating cerebral spinal fluid and about to die). Then, some anorexic chick with a figure of a prepubescent boy, wearing ass tight, white pants, put her mat next to mine. Might I just mention... note to all yoga loving babes who are reading this (very important): DO NOT WEAR WHITE!!!. I could see this chick’s vag and she hadn’t even started sweating yet. Quadruple fucking EWW! The first thought that entered my mind. “OH my god, I’m gonna end up writing about this chick’s snatch on my blog.”
Soon, the yogi-riffic (skinny bitch) instructor came in all happy and shit. We all assumed “Child’s Pose” while she told us the secrets to peaceful bliss. Then it began...
I didn’t find any part of this practice enlightening. If anything... I was really mad. Mad that I’m the least flexible person ever. Mad that I was so fucking slippery I couldn’t successfully grab an appendage and maintain grip. Mad that I’m a fucking CrossFitter (I think I’m invincible) and I’m getting my ass kicked by stretching! Mad that my inner yogi screamed “FUCK!” when I fell from Warrior II pose (not in my inside-voice).
Another note to all yogis, male or female: WASH YOUR FUCKING FEET. It’s really fucking nasty to smell someone’s stanky feet when you’re face is all up in their shit. I’m face down on the floor doing some stupid superman shit and this chick’s nasty bunion covered piggies we’re invading my breathing space. Nasty shit.
Since I’m so full of advise... BLOW YOUR FUCKING NOSE. The last thing I want to hear when I’m all serene and shit is your booger whistling dixie while you’re performing your Darth Vader breathing. Not cool.
Now I’m going to return to my white pants yogi friend. It was like a train crash. Completely horrific but I couldn’t stop staring. Her VAGINA was right there. Just a thin piece of white fabric which had now become see through due to excessive sweating (I think I literally just threw up my chicken kabobs from dinner). I will never think of “Happy Baby Pose” the same ever again. Oops... just puked again.
Might I mention... I used to do yoga four times a week until I got a fucking life and started CROSSFIT. (This has nothing to do with me getting my ass handed to me at yoga and NEVER excelling. Nothing.) ;0)
OMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
Oh my god. I haven't laughed that hard in a LONG time. You are hilarious Ashley. Thanks so much for sharing yourself... I think you should wrire a book. No joke. :)xo-Amy
ReplyDelete