XV

5-6-2006

Yoga for the Sexually Frustrated

Maybe this makes me weird.
There's this yoga program on Oxygen every day at 6 a.m. I love watching it when I get ready for work. I don't do yoga. I've never done yoga. It's mesmerizing. All the loose fitting earth-tones. Steve Ross' soothing voice. The token fat guy in the group, who while no more limber than a table, is certainly more limber than I. I cannot turn the shit off.
The other morning Steve told his class to partner up. One person sat on the floor while their partner kneeled behind them. The seated person was supposed to bend forward, while the partner pushed their back down. Then Steve says, "some people like to give massages here." Mouth agape, I watched as they flashed to one sweaty girl rubbing another sweaty girl's back. I said, "what the fuck?!" and leapt at the t.v. turning it off. I was never going to make it to work if this kept up.
Yesterday I'm watching, and they're doing stuff I'd never seen before. It looked harder. Steve gets down on the floor to show the class some modified shrieking leprechaun position or something, then he pulls his leg back to his back. "Just keep pulling until you know what happens."
You know what? Again I say, "what the fuck?!" Only this time I say it as I'm leaping onto the floor into the modified shrieking leprechaun and pulling my leg back to my back. How the hell else was I supposed to figure out what, "you know what," was? Was I going to have a mind-blowing orgasm? Were doves going to shoot out my ass? Sadly it seems like, "you know what," is just a nice way of saying, "until you're in so much pain that you want to cry like a little girl." I guess you never know until you try.