Dear Warrior Pose,
F*#? YOU, you are a raging psychopath.
Flipping you the bird and hoping you topple,
Dear Pigeon Pose,
You are the worst named pose in the history of all poses. When was the last time a pigeon did this…
Breathing in to my hips,
So it appears I am super competitive, and yoga – with all its mirrors – is not helping.
Constantly, I find myself wanting to either fist-pump (alone), or chest-bump (my yoga master) when I squeeze and come down three more inches than anyone else.
Please. Don’t pretend this surprises you. If you have been reading me long enough, you know that beneath the layer of velvet nice is at least two centimetres of tough steel. A tough I have to control when the girl next to me is so busy staring at herself in the mirror and fixing her bangs through three full poses that I imagine a solid right hook forcing her in to Savasana, so that she doesn’t throw my game. (See? So competitive that I want the person next to me to be equally so, just to up my ‘game’. Know anyone else who calls yoga ‘game’? ‘Nuff said.)
Look: I am the first to acknowledge that hair is extremely important. Exhibit A, this following email sent by yours truly to Baby Jane a couple of days ago:
Dude. If I dye my hair right after yoga, and then go back to yoga the following day, do you think the dye will drip down my face? I am a little worried. Should I wear a bandana? I need to find fashionable ways to wrap a bandana around my forehead.
I am scared.
I could hear her laughing from Halifax, while she responded with ‘I’m laughing so hard right now!! I really doubt that, but please take pictures and send them to me if it drips’.
I promise to post them here as well.
(Today is day 12 of Maha’s Six Week Challenge. Fist pump.)