My triumphant return to yoga included the following poses:Sweaty warrior (I and II)Hot-a-rangaShiva-saunaDownward facing dripHeatstroked child's poseApparently the ceiling fans are just for looks.
I'm jealous of people who do yoga. Mostly because they sort of cultivate a you-should-be-jealous, I-feel-awesome-all-the-time kind of aura.I am unable to do yoga, though. For two reasons: 1. My mom was into yoga way before being into yoga was cool. As a self-conscious teen, I was mortified. So I did what any teenager worth his Clearasil would do: I mocked it. A lot. If I started doing yoga now, I'd owe her an apology. 2. There are a lot of yoga poses that seem like they would be impossible to hold while not farting. And I'm not going to be the dude who farts in yoga class.
Yeah, I hate being the only sweaty person at our gym. You would think, as I foolishly did, "Hey, it's a gym. Everyone's going to be sweaty. I'll fit right in!" But it seems that the only other people at the gym fit into one of the following sweat-free categories: -90-pound female college athletes who sweat less while playing hours of full-contact sports than I do while peeling vegetables.-Older and/or heavier (not judging here) persons who rarely break more than .5 miles per hour on the treadmill.-Muscular jock guys who hang out in the weights area, joke around loudly, and occasionally do some exercise that apparently involves dropping thousand-pound weights from a height of ten feet, creating a full-scale sonic boom.Thus, I feel a little lonely in my sweatiness.
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