Throughout my schooling, I have always been a huge fan of English. Seriously. Get me into a math class with one of those: A train travelling from Boston is travelling 150 mph. A train from LA is going 225 mph. Where will the two meet? questions would result in a blank look from me, and my answer was usually along the lines of "Is there a dining car on that train? Are we talking first class, or cattle class here?"

As a child, I had to take those Iowa tests. I remember a few times that I took the tests they called my mother-I had apparently skipped the logic and math tests, could I retake them? The truth is, I hadn't skipped them at all-I had just managed to beat the odds of even getting some of the multiple-choice questions wrong, and I managed to severely fuck it all up.

This was repeated by my abyssmal Math SAT score.

Luckily, my English/Verbal SAT score was a perfect 800. At least I would get the chance for some higher learning, as long as it was of the language variety. The only equation I have needed in my life is Math=Bad.

I used to love those long essay questions on exams. I loved those hallowed words uttered by the teacher: "Class, get your pens out, get ready for a Compare and Contrast Essay." Give me a pen anyday, I can talk my way out of a paper bag. I used to delight on essay questions (opening paragraph to lay out the structure of the next three defense paragraphs. Fifth and final paragraph is the conclusion to tie the previous three together. Throw in a literary quote to get the teacher's panties wet. Smile and put the pen down.) I'm not good at much, but I was good at essay questions.

So yesterday, it occured to me that all the folk who say that these type of essay questions are irrelevant to real life should take it back. I present you with a new one-Compare and contrast, class-Agony or Ecstasy?

Yesterday I went to yoga class. I hadn't been to yoga since before going to Egypt, as last week Melissa and Jeff were over. I was looking forward to it and really pleased to be going.

Walking in to the room I saw with a groan that Reena is already there. The bad news is she was there and already acting like the High Preistess of Yoga. The good news is in the two weeks I was gone it appeared she'd put on about 10 pounds (don't lecture me about karma! I know, I know!) With a weary sigh, I set up my mat. The fabulous instructor comes in with a smile, and we get started.

Now, Reena goes to a yoga class every damn day in locations all over the county. She is part of the Secret Yoga Club, of folks that attend as many bendy classes as possible. As such, she's made a bet with someone that she will do the splits by Christmas. So naturally, she requests that we do them every fucking yoga class.

The first time she requested it, the instructor looked around. "Can anyone do the splits?"

I can do them with one leg out to either side of me-something that used to impress on date night-but I can't do them the way that yoga wants them, which is one leg straight out and one leg straight behind. The instructor looks at me. "Were you never a cheerleader?" she asks.

Oh sure. I mean, since I'm an American, I obviously must've been a cheerleader. I mean, I used to twirl flaming batons and wear sparklers in my hair while doing the splits as well. The truth is, I never have been a cheerleader, having failed the only tryout I attended (I'm not sure if it was my complete lack of grace that saw me not get accepted, or if it was the fact that I couldn't do the splits. Well that, or else it could have been the raging case of pink eye that I had when it was audition time.)

Now doing the splits has been making me angry. First we try it with the right leg forward, and then, just for the extra torture, we switch and have the left leg forward. It's agonizing and painful work, and I find that-not unlike smacking my head into something-trying to do these splits makes me angry. Really angry. Probably because they fucking hurt and because we're doing them because my karmic nemesis has requested it.

So we kick it off. Stretch and work for it, with the instructor and Reena talking constantly. Reena is pushing and pulling her muscles as hard as she can, the rest of the class gamely going along. I push my right leg as far forward as I can and I vow after today I will never, ever again try to do the splits.

And suddenly I look down, and I am doing them.

I am doing the splits.

"Well done, Helen!" crows the instructor. The class turns to look at me, and they smile widely. I am doing the splits. My right leg is straight out front, and my left leg is behind me. My crotch is squarely on the floor.

Reena shoots me a look of pure hatred.

I smile back. I am doing the splits, you bitch. I've met your Christmas deadline. Hah! And just for measure, I lean forward over my right leg and grab my flexed foot with my hand.

The instructor asks us to swap feet, and lo and behold, I can also do the splits with the left leg forward. Reena, red-faced and sweating, has her crotch quivering about one foot off the ground. I smile serenely at her.

I hate you, her expression rages.

My legs are more bendy than yours, my smile says sweetly. I can do the splits. I am bendy. Soon, I may be able to service my own beaver, and when I do that, nirvana is just a stone's throw away.

The teacher once again tells me that I am doing great, and adds in that she can't do the splits herself. I feel one with the Buddha, I am the Lotus. I can do the fucking splits. I am one with the feeling of Ecstasy.

Next, she asks us to sit down with our left leg straight out. We bend our right knee and have to hold it up, and pull it over our head so that our leg is actually behind our head. Fucking Gumby can't even do this business, and here we are giving it a try.

I shake my head and laugh with the rest of the class as we listen incredulously to what we have to do. We sit down and give it a try. As I lift my right leg to put it over my head, I realize that I am feeling pretty flexible. I am feeling ok in my hips. I lift my leg higher...and higher...and it goes over my head and behind my neck!

"Congratulations, Helen!" shouts the teacher. "Well done!" Reena looks like she may be cutting my brake line sometime in the near future, the class looks amazed, and at that exact moment, one leg behind my head and my body exposed to the world, I break my one cardinal rule, my one barrier between my world and my phobias, the one thing I vowed I would never do...

...and I fart.

I become the temperature of the sun in Agony. I am utterly horrified and mortified, rivers of shame the color of my beet red face. No one seems to mind, but there's no way they missed it-it was of the high, squeaking, nature that one knows is either a tire deflating or rectal gas, and no great shakes which one this was. I whisper a horrified "Excuse me." and put my leg down. When we swap legs I am not as flexible, but then again every muscle is holding my sphincter in as tight as possible.

I have to face these guys again tomorrow, but I guarantee you it will be a legume-free diet beforehand.

Class, compare and contrast-Agony or Ecstasy?

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:48 AM | Comments (25) | Add Comment
Post contains 1393 words, total size 7 kb.

1 LMAO!!!!

Posted by: mitzi at September 09, 2005 12:10 PM (WUm8R)

2 I"m not sure what part of this post had me laughing the hardest!!! This was really really funny!

Posted by: Bou at September 09, 2005 12:32 PM (5JHEt)

3 Ah, the question. I would go ahead and go with agony. I'm sure Reena has pooted a time or two, so you're not losing ground (or points) in that respect. What she has never been able to do... wait, let me rephrase. What you did that hasn't been accomplished by ANYone else in the class, so far as we know, is the splits. The leg-behind-head thing. From what you've said, you were merely becoming mortal in everyone else's eyes by farting. The accomplishments, though, had to come first, so they could rever you as the Queen of Bendy, if only for a moment. Ecstasy, says I.

Posted by: scorpy at September 09, 2005 01:02 PM (J8Q3p)

4 Didn't you say that that was all part of Yoga anyway? Oh well, I guess that's just one more difference between men & women. For me, farting at that moment would have been more along the lines of a victory trumpet. Kind of a "Yes, I fart in your general direction, BIATCH!!" moment. Then again I can hardly SEE my feet, much less get them around my head.

Posted by: ~Easy at September 09, 2005 01:18 PM (NL+Vn)

5 Helen dear... I LOVE YOU. You are the brilliance of a burning sun. And from one gumby (that needs her yoga or ballet to get her gumby back- but that is another story) BRAVO.

Posted by: stinkerbell at September 09, 2005 01:45 PM (ZznPv)

6 This has to be Ecstasy. The accomplishment will remain while the memory (and any odor) of the wind-breakage will quickly fade Just think, you beat what's-her-head's deadline by nearly 4 months. That should bring you pure joy.

Posted by: Solomon at September 09, 2005 01:54 PM (k1sTy)

7 That has happened to me in yoga class before - the gassiness, not the splits or leg behind my head. Bravo on the bendiness, by the way. So embarassing, but it happens in yoga sometimes.

Posted by: donna at September 09, 2005 01:57 PM (D41vs)

8 Wow, I'm so impressed! I've kind of always wanted to be able to do the splits.. I'd take any of the 3 options.. but I'm lucky if I can touch my toes, so I'm not holding out for any miracles! Thanks for sharing, I needed a good laugh! :-)

Posted by: Erin at September 09, 2005 02:04 PM (BuifH)

9 Let me take the comments section in a different direction and ask: why would you want to throw rocks at your beaver? Even if that would bring you to nirvana, it seems a bit extreme.

Posted by: RP at September 09, 2005 02:17 PM (LlPKh)

10 Brrrrt.

Posted by: Ms. Pants at September 09, 2005 02:45 PM (PQfF5)

11 everybody farts at yoga practice

Posted by: SeaKitty at September 09, 2005 03:21 PM (4htW2)

12 Embarrassing as this would be (especially with everyone watching you at the moment) every one of the women in that class has passed gas. In fact, they were probably happy to hear someone else do it because they have had the same fear of having it happen in class just like you did. If anything, it mercifully shows the vulnerability of even the bendiest girl in the class. Best thing to do (in my opinion) is to laugh it off after excusing yourself. And I am so happy that you did these positions before stupid Reena. That woman is driving me crazy from across the ocean

Posted by: Laura GF at September 09, 2005 05:33 PM (gOCkD)

13 I fart in your general direction! He he. I'm so glad I am not the only one this has happened to in Yoga class!

Posted by: Teri at September 09, 2005 06:17 PM (K7jOL)

14 Bahahahahaa!! So funny. Way to bend, and congrats on reaching whatsherbitch's goal before she could. Ha!

Posted by: Lisa at September 09, 2005 06:34 PM (MzcD8)

15 I'm going with Easy, consider it a toot of triumph. Bendiness is much more impressive than farting is embarrassing. The bendy stays, and the gas....well, the gas passes.

Posted by: sophie at September 09, 2005 07:01 PM (yZwDD)

16 THANK you for this smile I'm wearing today. Girl, everyone passes gas. I just love your description -- you trumpeted your triumph! Believe me, Reena did NOT remember the poot, she remembered everything else and, on that note, watch your back. ;o)

Posted by: Margi at September 09, 2005 07:26 PM (nwEQH)

17 Helen, this is exactly the reason why I only took one yoga class in my life! I farted in class (my husband knew it was me) and everyone else turned to look at the fat lady sitting 12 feet away from me. The poor thing got this look on her face like ....."No, no, it wasn't me, I swear it wasn't me", but no one was buying it. I felt so sorry for her that I never went back. Congrats on the splits and all.

Posted by: kenju at September 09, 2005 08:11 PM (+AT7Y)

18 I'm in Agony from laughing so hard! Christ, that was funny!

Posted by: Amber at September 09, 2005 08:12 PM (zQE5D)

19 Oh, Honey... that's PERFECT! That was just the icing on the cake... you are the QUEEN! Way to GO!

Posted by: sue at September 09, 2005 09:36 PM (9i141)

20 You think that's AGONY? Try doing sit-ups with both head and butt in the air at the same time, and farting perfectly on count with each sit-up! One..FRAP, two...FRAP, three...FFRRRAAAAPP, ... you get the picture. That's my specialty in tae kwon do class. Actually, I'dve made sure that offensive personality (Reena) was directly in front of, or at least immediately downwind of, my butt so she could experience the fulness of pleasure from my anal victory trumpet.

Posted by: diamond dave at September 09, 2005 10:39 PM (4zuR3)

21 OMG I have to say it - brings a whole new meaning to tooting you own horn *rolls around laughing at own joke*. )

Posted by: flikka at September 10, 2005 02:59 AM (puvdD)

22 You did the splits AND farted. Nobody else could make that claim. Therefore = ecstasy.

Posted by: Old Horsetail Snake at September 10, 2005 03:35 AM (acLa9)

23 if the instructor had any social skills whatsoever, she would have laughed casually and said, "Oh, that's very common when one's foot is behind one's head."

Posted by: kalisah at September 10, 2005 03:40 AM (C7RFb)

24 That had me crying with laughter. I usually queef which is just as embarassing, but what are you going to do? Besides throwing an immediate shocked glance at someone else, perhaps one that isn't paying attention. Or coughing loudly, but that doesn't ever really work, does it?

Posted by: Sylvana at September 10, 2005 04:33 AM (SFdCv)

25 Forget the fart...think how happy Angus will be with all this newly discovered flexibility. Talk about "hot yoga".

Posted by: Simon at September 12, 2005 09:31 AM (OyeEA)

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