[Note to The Boy: This story is pure fiction. As I’ve told you before, girls do not burp, fart or poo. That smell came from The Kittens.]
It was about a year ago.
After stopping for a breather while walking up some stairs one day, I had to face the fact that I wasn’t exactly the healthiest of people and unless I wanted a swimming ring to replace my baby muffin top, I’d have to take some action.
I’d done the gym thing before and I’d realised that it was boring and I really hate being sweaty, so that wasn’t an option.
And then someone suggested Yoga to me!
I’d seen loads of yoga classes on TV and in movies and it looked relaxing (if sometimes unflattering) and very unstressful!
Exercise for lazy ladylike people.
Sign me up!
When I got there, I was greated by the teacher who handed me some forms that waived my right to sue them if my spine snapped in two.
He also informed me that his class was like a family and everyone except me had been doing yoga for a couple of years.
I smiled unenthusiastically, listened to him tell me how fabulous yoga would be for my scoliosis and backed away as soon as I could.
He was rather…spacey.
He smiled a lot in the same way a hippie would while gazing at the pretty colours surrounding him.
The rest of the yoga-doers were stretching and running through some moves.
I sat there playing with my toes and it was at that point I realised that my brand new top had GIANT arm holes that were flashing my bra to the entire room.
Not a good start.
Having prepared myself for some gentle stretching, I didn’t bother tying my hair back, imaging that I’d look cool or laid-back or something (or at least be able to hide my face if I was messing up!) and I got myself into the first position.
Little did I know I’d spend the next week barely able to move because of the PAIN.
Yoga isn’t nice or relaxing or gentle or anything you’ve been led to believe.
Yoga is torture.
Yoga is evil.
Yoga is the Devil.
I spent an hour twisting myself into awkward positions and finding myself forced to hold them for a minute or more.
I was sweating buckets, my face was tomato-red and my hair was frizzy and sticking to my face.
Oh and while I was suffering through this, I also had the instructor picking on me and kicking my arms and legs further apart or closer together and pointing out everything I was doing wrong.
The class started to wind down and one of the last moves was rolling back on your shoulders and putting you legs up in the area so the majority of your body is perpendicular to the ground.
Now what I haven’t mentioned is that I’m horribly shy and I get really nervous going to new places and meeting new people.
And nerves affect some people differently.
Some people feel/get sick, others get tense and get sore muscles, other people get headaches, some get stomach aches, some cry.
I do none of these things.
I am one of the poor unfortunates whose tummy gets a little funny and I get a little gas-y.
But you were warned.
A few minutes before this last position, I could feel my tummy starting to tick and I had to fight a very natural urge.
I am a lady.
Of course I’m going to hold it.
And I held it well.
Until I was balancing my body in the air.
And my elbow slipped a little.
As I tried to keep my balance, I forgot to keeping holding.
And a rather loud noise came from my body.
The guy beside me tried to hide a smile.
The girl on my other side failed miserably to hide hers.
I never went back.