This was by far the hardest class yet. Not because of the ridiculous poses nor due to the 40 degree heat. My pain and suffering was all thanks to the new instructor who looked, sounded and acted a lot like this yapping chihuahua above. She never shut up, not even when we were in the savasana pose where you're supposed to relax, breathe and focus to ready yourself for the next torturous bendathon. No. Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap. And when she wasn't inflicting verbal diarrhea, she would talk to people in baby-speak. I mean really, lady. You make me want to punch newborns.
Now, I know what you're thinking. I don't ever post negative content, but the way I look at it, I pushed through the abuse and survived the class without losing focus or running her over with my car and that alone is a wonderful thing, no?
Plus, one of my favourite songs ever came on as I started my car and that put me in a very, very good mood. At least for a few minutes. Thank you Pearl Jam.
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