Wednesday, 15 September 2010

Sexy Yoga

So, in keeping with my comments about getting older, I have decided that I need to keep in shape. I have never been one for those exercise classes where you jump up and down to music, race on a static bicycle or indeed do anything that requires the wearing of 'second-skin' type lycra. I have always preferred a more sedate approach: a bit of stretching and squeezing. So, the other night I attended my very first yoga class.

Now, I would consider the yoga class the domain of the 'woman-of-a-certain-age'. Women close to my mum's age, wearing tracksuits, reaching for their toes or the ceiling. I couldn't have been more wrong. Yoga is like attending a rehersal for a pornographic movie. At one point, I was sitting on my bottom with both legs in the air, hands on my ankles (for those of us who have given birth, think stirrups in the delivery room). There was lots of stick your bum in the air, lift you leg up provocatively, splay your legs etc. It was like the idiots guide to the Karma Sutra!

By the time I got home I was absolutely buzzing, serotonin levels through the roof. I asked my husband if he thought my serotonin levels would be this high every week. His reply of 'I hope so' says it all!

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