In an attempt to get a body fit for singlehood (maybe all of that goat cheese is catching up with me), I went to a class called yoga burn this morning. And Ho. ly. Shit.
The woman who taught the class is named Brook Benten. Let me tell you, Brook Benton does not fuck around. She actually has her own workout videos. I have included a clip of her video at the end for your entertainment. Skip ahead to 50s to see the “yoga” segment. That’s what I did this morning, only far less gracefully and with a look of imminent death in my eyes.
Here is a quick summary of my psyche during the hour-long class.
This is nice, it’s kind of…. holy shit she wants me to do five more? Who the fuck does she think she- ohmygod I can’t breathe. my thighs. my thighs my thighs.
What the fuck is a thigh, I can’t even think anymore. Death. Death is coming. Either for me or for her because I am taking this bitch to the back alleyway once she’s done- ohhhhh god, I can’t feel my toes. Is that supposed to happen?
Tell me to chaturanga one more time bitch, I dare you. DO IT.
Child’s pose, holy shit yes. Yes. YES. Wait why is she standing back – oh fuck, we are not finished. What else could she possibly- nope, like hell that pose is happening. Nu uh. My legs are staying together and on the ground, thankyouverymuch.
Oh my lord it’s over. It might actually be over. Oh wow. I’m alive. And she’s putting a scented eye mask on me. Maybe I won’t punch her in the face. At least not today. Goodnight…..