Dangers of yoga

****If yoga you start, you end with a fart.****

I've been staying home for a few days now and was religiously following a free yoga course on YouTube. As you hit your thirties, you start realizing that you have muscles whose existence you were unaware of. You especially understand that these muscles that you didn't know you had, are actually atrophied, something that your joints constantly remind you. However fit you are, your muscles and the way they react do change.

So I had taken the decision to develop somemore flexibility and improve my mobility. In order to do so, I started the practice of yoga with my husband. It was a moment of intimacy as well, as there can be nothing more personal than having your face just behind your husband's ass in a downward dog posture. Yoga actually mimicks our sexual life well. You had the dog pose, which made me queef; you had the child pose, when one of us is being a brat about which position to take; the warrior pose I take when there wasn't enough foreplay; the easy pose when I'm waiting for hubby to finally decide to take off his pants; the triangle, when I'm caught in a love triangle with my husband and my pillow; the four limbed staff when we opt for the missionary pose; the corpse when I'm not in the mood.

I was also trying to include more plant-based recipes in our daily meals so as to improve our overall health. So, one day, I decided to prepare some Vegetarian Quesadillas with some refried beans, cabbage, capsicum and cheese as filling. It was overall a satisfactory recipe, I guess, as all the dishes were empty. Usually it either meant that the food was so tasty that nothing was left, or that you didn't prepare enough and everyone was still starving. I would choose the first option in this case.

So after a very good lunch, we rested for a while until 2-3 hours had passed and then we laid down our yoga mat. It was an easy-to-follow along tutorial and each time, after the practice I realized that I had taken a good decision and my limbs thanked me by complaining less. That day, we would be working the abs and I thought it was good after looking at the paunch of hubby.

As usual, we were side by side and then suddenly I was on my back. What had happened? A noxious smell tickled my nose and made my stomach heave. I couldn't be pregnant right, because the last time I felt queasy at a smell, my son dropped by after 8 months to say hi. No, it couldn't be, I had just had my menses. So what could it be? Sniffing like I'd seen Tom do when he was looking for Jerry, I followed the scent until I reached hubby's bum. He was the one who had concocted a spicy gift for me, with a hint of cumin and paprika. My eyes opened wide and my mouth formed an O shape. I had forgotten that beans, cabbage and anti-bloating exercises did not go well together. It made for a very explosive package. And I was the latest victim.

Hubby grinned at me sheepishly and that was another knock to the system. Innocent guilt can make a man look even more irresistible, I had discovered.

I tried to glare at him, but it made me frown. Did I want more wrinkles? I tried to compose my face into a calm mask again, then finally gave up and moved my mat to the next room. Yoga was supposed to free you from stress, well it also freed you from your pestilent gas.

That day I learnt my lesson, that I cook very good food, but unfortunately even good things have side effects. I also learnt that while wine ages well and improves its taste, the same does not apply to farts. And it's not how you deal with the vagina which is the true measure of love, but how you cope with the asshole.