Post-class I am whipped. Beat into a pulp. A big ol’ mess, to get all ‘Southern’ on you and stuff.
Tonight we tried a new place (mainly because they have a coupon, and coupons are good). It was in an old building near downtown, bit of a different vibe. Ramshackle building, loads of little skinny people (which I am blaming on its position to the downtown core) and a door on the women’s toilet that I swear was made completely out of Styrofoam painted brown. For reals.
Holy did we ever sweat. It was brutal.
The room was so crowded I couldn’t even see myself in the mirror. I also couldn’t see myself because there was a very tall man in front of me. And funny as we were asked repeatedly to focus on ourselves in-front of the mirror, and I couldn’t as, well, he was RIGHT THERE.
I focused a lot on his sweaty back though….. he has a mole just below his left shoulder-blade. And nice shoulders.
Anyways, bikram was hard-core and I was beaten down man. Beaten down.
Dizzy and exhausted I left the studio, chatting with J and C about how darn hot it was (at least 10 degrees hotter than our other place. Swear.). I threw my damp yoga gear into the back seat, balanced my water bottle on the roof and loaded everything else into the front. I climbed in and took off.
I drove about 50 feet and heard an awful clanking noise. Totally thought it was my car, as we have innumerable issues with it. I kept going and the noise stopped. Glancing in my rear-view mirror I saw something blue on the wet road.
Oh crap! It’s my water bottle!! My $25 water bottle that I got a huge lecture about buying! The water bottle that C teases me about every time I see her. You know, THAT water bottle.
I quickly called her, thankfully she was just behind me (and South St is a one-way street AND wasn’t that busy). She swooped in behind my car and practically leaned out of hers and one-armed it out of the street and into her sporty little SmartCar.
Oh, and then she laughed at me. A lot.
And, I imagine, will never let me forget it. Sigh.