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Welcome to my blog. Brb... I'm making memories (read as: Wine. I'm going to get some wine...)

You want me to do a what now?

You want me to do a what now?

Doing exercises yesterday, and one of the next workouts that came up in the sequence was a handstand. A HANDSTAND!!

You read correctly. The kind where you back your booty up towards the wall, fold over forwards, put your hands down on the ground and then somehow, walk your legs up like a fucking spider until you look like an upside down bat who needs to lean on shit. OR throw your hands down hard onto the floor (like you’re picking up some dropped cake) while facing the wall, try propel your larger than normal arse over your body, fling your legs up in the air, then hope the junk-in-your-trunk tips you in the right direction and come to a standstill up against the wall with your feet… upside down…

Um, say what now…?

This made me disproportionately stabby.

"Oh no, you can just fuck off with your bad self! I am 41! FORTY ONE. That shit was fun when I was TEN!!” Why? Why would you want me to do that?” *turns head upside down to try make eye contact* “…and furthermore!”

*stares at TV and realizes they moved on to the next exercise 2 minutes ago*

 Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait for meeeeeeeeeeeee!

 *lies down on ground, parts boobs and tries to do something called a “Superman”*

 *tries to remember why being fat was an issue for me again*

…and then to end… a 20 minute yoga class.  Even though at this stage I had an alarming eye twitch and was positive I was having a stroke! I’m sat there all cocky… now this I can do. I know me some yoga words… Chavasna, Chattanooga… or some such…

“…go into your cobra pose, then cat cowl, then downward dog, and THEN come down into a strong plank and take all 4 limbs and bend them at right angles to each other and now do a push up”… while breathing in, and trying not to fart… (I was successful in one of those things).

Are you people on Flakka?

Clearly anything involving some sort of yoga animal move is trying to kill me and there are reasons they don’t have nicer names like a downward hamster…

Me: Dale… what’s that noise?

Dale: What noise?

Me: It’s a high pitched weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee sound

Dale: It’s the fridge

Me: No, I think I’m having a stroke

Dale: It’s the fridge

Me: No, I am having


I get no sympathy in this house…