OK – Note to self…. No more Yoga with my daughter. My wife and daughter have started into the X this month and are now into it full swing. My daughter and I are apparently on the same schedule and she asked if I would do Yoga with her last night. First of all 16 year olds are much more flexible than old guys. While bending over and touching the floor with my fingertips is still considered by me to be a great accomplishment, she simply reaches down plants both palms on the floor with ease. What the hell!!!
We get thru the first couple of minutes of the workout and she then says “What is the name of the chick in the back with the huge badonkadonk butt?” Now I have done the Yoga DVD at least 10 times previous to this, and never really noticed that Shawna has a ghetto booty. But now that my daughter has mentioned it, well yes, it is a bubble butt. Now that the booty has been mentioned, I find myself constantly looking up at the screen and looking at that butt, instead of being a good yoga boy and harnessing my chi.
Second of all, Yoga with all of its twisting and bending and stretching always makes me fart. (see earlier video entry on this blog) Now with my daughter down there, the farting has to be kept to a minimum. Imagine doing yoga with your sphincter clenched to the tightest to keep from ripping a huge noxious air biscuit. There is not alot of room in the Jello workout facility/basement, so as we twist and stretch and pretzel our way through the workout, she constantly is reminding me “No Farting”. We work through all of the Warrior I, II, III and Half-Moon twisting Half-Moon and other poses. (By the way, finally bought a real yoga block. Much better than the stupid ass old shoe box I was using/crushing)
Now it is on to the balance poses, and again Royal Dancer is one thing, but Royal Dancer with sphincter clenched is another beast altogether. Crane, another great biscuit maker. Plough to shoulder-stand, just asking for good cheese cutting. On to Yoga Belly 7, I kick her butt at this, she may be flexible, but abs are not her strength. Now it is on to the cool down stretches. Ahh Happy Baby. What a great time to let out a giant wind breaker. I tell my daughter that the Happy Baby pose kind of reminds me of changing diapers when her and her brother were babys. So here is a little payback for all those diapers changed… Rrrrrrrrrriiiippppppp. Ahhhhh. Kind of sounds like a fresh set of playing cards clothespinned into a set of bicycle spokes, remember that? As the scent of Hot sauce, broccoli and ass slowly settles over the area, I am met with a “Oh my god, that is horrible, you’re a pig”. Next thing you know, I have the health club/basement all to myself. Namast’e ya dumbass.