Dear
Frankie.
Yoga
lessons started today, and I can safely claim that it is the most unbearably
stupid thing I have ever spent time on. In my whole life. Ever.
So it all
started with me lugging my yoga mat on my shoulder like some elderly lady who
has nothing better to do with her life down the street towards this studio five
minutes from where I live. And when I got in, this weird calm music was blaring
in the wooden floor studio that looked like some sort of ballet classroom. Only
it wasn't full of little girls in pink tutus. It was full of big girls in pink
leggings. And it wasn't even the nice sort of pink that you are, Frankie!
*facepalm*
I don't
understand how I will survive.
So back to
the lesson - the teacher was this overenthusiastic middle aged woman who smiled
and greeted everyone who came in like they were her long lost grandchildren who
really needed some brownies.
Speaking of
brownies...
Brb.
Okay I'm
back. So first she made all of us try to stretch - emphasis on try, obviously.
I made it halfway to my toes, then I just gave up for the rest of the
stretching session and sat there looking at everyone else stretch. No one even
noticed I wasn't doing anything, because they all had their eyes closed
'looking for their inner selves'.
Yeah. These
people should be in a mental asylum.
In fact,
that's what I told mum when I got back from my hour long session of sitting on
the floor on my phone, and she went bonkers. Like full on
disappointed lecture sessions about how she was paying two hundred dollars a
week for me to be able to relax and connect with my inner self and I
had the nerve to sit there on my phone?
Um yeah
that's what I just told her...
Sadly, I
have to go back tomorrow. And the day after that. And after that. Until I
somehow 'reach that state of peace' she wants me to achieve, whatever that is.
Maybe tomorrow I'll bring the dog. No one will even notice.
Signing off, Mia.
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