Bikram is a cruel, heartless bastard

Oh my God, Becky. Her butt is so big. It’s like a rap star’s girlfriend’s butt.
Yes, that’s right. Tonight I went back to yoga after a nearly three year hiatus. And It kicked my ass something fierce. At one point I was sure I would die and they would have to scoop my fat ass up off my yoga mat and then they would have to call my mother to inform her that I had expired during the camel pose -all of my sweat soaked yoga costume stuck to my ever increasing bosom and my meaty thighs unable to support me.
Dear Christ, but it was brutal. I thought of my father a million times during class and imagined him somewhere laughing and enjoying my pain and suffering. He and I used to attend classes together and then share our agony afterwards. It was really quite a bonding thing with us.
But now? I have the most amazing yoga bubble ever. At this moment I am fairly sure I will never consume another piece of salami or McDonald’s French fry ever again. Because to sweat it out is shear agony. Nope. I am on the path to righteous peace and healthy living. Mmmmhmmm.

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