Sweaty McSweat

I've taken a couple of vinyasa/astanga yoga classes in the past couple of weeks at a small studio in Somerville. In this type of yoga you breath high in your chest and you sweat like a banshee.

I think I might love it.

At the end of the class I took tonight, and the one I took last week, while we are in corpse pose, near the very end of the 75 minute class, just resting and feeling our bodies, what I feel is this bone-deep loneliness and sadness. But I feel it like it's being drawn out, like the poses I just did were some sort of emotional poultice. I think this is a good thing.

Of course, at the first class one of the instructors asked if I was okay because I was sweating so much. I was the schweatiest one in the entire class. Not so at tonight's class, where the added bonus was an adorable curly-haired instructor. I think he should be my new boyfriend, once, of course, I have done enough yoga to suck out all the lonely and sad.