C,
Does BS stand for what I think it does? If so, it only confirms what I always suspected about yoga, although part of me secretly longs to believe you can really can achieve Nirvana by wrapping your legs round your ears. Touchy-feely is always good too, although I fear I can offer neither riches, nor youth to your yoga guru. What if he by-passes me altogether?
Actually, my greatest fear is that he will single me out for special attention, as is the wont of most exercise class teachers. Even in my physical prime – that blissful time back in college, where I touched down at 115 on the scales for a brief, shining nanosecond – they still felt compelled to correct my every move. Once a fat kid, always a fat kid, I guess.
Sorry if I inadvertently threw a marital spanner in the works re. your missing undies. I guess I just have lingerie on the brain right now, ever since you sent me that chain email about the husband who was forced to bury his wife in her latest Dupont Circle purchase, simply because she was saving them for a special occasion she never lived to see. Think the moral was meant to be something along the lines of seize the day, but what if she never wanted to be buried in titty tassles and a leather thong? Speaking of which, they get to be damned uncomfortable pretty quickly, as I discovered this AM when waiting for the school bus in 30 degree freezing rain.
Faithfully,
P.
