This past weekend, I did yoga for the first time. Huh, feels more like yoga did me, actually. I'm still sore in places that I didn't know I had. As part of the pressure of being "the new kid in school", I could feel myself bending over backwards to impress this room of all women, and also because I had to bend over backwards for these... what would you call them... elaborate stretches? I've never put my arm around and under my leg before and most likely never will again. It hurt, a lot. I was like "My body doesn't do this!" but the yoga teacher didn't hear me over the collective "Ahhh" exhale that everyone else was doing. That's the thing about yoga. It's very inwardly reflective. Lots of "Ahhhs" and "Shhhs" My favorite pose was the one where we layed down. That was nice.

I brought my own mat, which I didn't know I had. I remembered that I drunkenly family stened one out of those leftover packing peanuts and some bubble rap that Amazon sends. It was a bit noisy at first, but after a while, most people had synced their movements to it. To be honest, I hadn't seen that many women sync up their flows since the last time I watched The View. It was incredible.

In a way, a yoga session is like a fine wine... it ends with you doing acrobatics on the floor. I've never sweat more standing in one place than I did on that mat. Afterwards, I was pooped and it was popped. Speaking of pooping, I'm at the doctors now. Like right now as I write this. It's about an hour and fifteen minutes past my appointment on Tuesday and I'm tired. Ooh! Maybe I should do yoga right here. Anyone can teach it, the teacher over the weekend said so repeatedly. Alright, here goes... "Everyone, please move these chairs out of the way, and I guess, lay on the rug..." I'll let you know how this goes later. I was finally seen by the doctor around 8 pm on Tuesday. We didn't speak, but I know he saw me because he waved on the way by the door. That was nice, too.