One eyed monster

The One Eyed Monster

Today is Wednesday.  Congratulations, you say, I did get the day of the week correct.  This makes a change. To be fair to me, though I haven’t made any day errors since….hmm I was going to write last week, but I double booked yesterday evening.

Moving on swiftly.  So this is Yoga day as well as aerobics.   At 9.45am, I was so busy imagining a lie down, that I simply couldn’t bring myself to do even one more abdominal crunch.  By 9.50am, I had a plan, I had decided I was going to scarper, before the yoga teacher got to the gym and therefore wouldn’t see me.

Sometimes it is hard to believe that I am 53 nearly 54, and not 10 and constantly in trouble at school.  I had my shopping list in my head and thought if I do yoga and shopping that leaves very limited time for lying down before I collect my daughter.     My days are governed by how soon I can get home and lie down again.

I left class just when the fabulous instructor was doing a torturous exercise which I decided I didn’t need to do and prepared my escape.

Busted.  There she was as I got downstairs.  “Morning, see you in a minute” she called out to me merrily.    Back up I trotted, avoiding the instructor whose class I had just left.   I had mouthed to him as I had headed for the door, “I have to go to work”.   What a fibber.

Yoga was wonderful, it always is.  It was also absolute HELL on this earth.   SO, SO painful, although I am fit now, I am as stiff as an old board and only do neck breathing.  I haven’t breathed from my diagraphm since well 1900 and …….I am far too highly strung for that.

We were doing these extended hip stretches.   I know they will be good for me when I finish, but fuck, are they sore when you are in the middle of them.   I also manage to get myself in a pickle with the devil/angel conversations I have.   Angel self is in a meditative state breathing into my stretch.  Have you seen that happen?   Have you?  It doesn’t exist; it is called grunting with pain, masked as breathing into your stretch.  Devil self is running through the shopping list, and added digestive biscuits to it to make a cheesecake.

After that I skipped off literally, and DID go to the shops.  It was so successful, I think because of yoga.  I DID have my list, as it is now on my phone, but I didn’t have my glasses so I couldn’t see it.   However I just went aisle by aisle trying to remember everything.  That is quite a dangerous way to shop frankly but I didn’t have any temper tantrums or abuse anyone or get grumpy with the fact that the oat cakes are still not there.  I even remembered the nutella.

I got home feeling good and smug.  First thing the housekeeper says to me was,”mama, we need toilet paper”.   Had I bought toilet paper?    Of course I bloody hadn’t.

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