In the spirit of this whole metamorphocity idea, I’ve recently begun taking advantage of more of the fantastic activities that the city has to offer.
The one that has stuck with me the most is Bikram Yoga. Right now I’m going twice a week and loving it.
In fact, I’m now so dedicated that even the disgustingly wet and chilly November weather didn’t stop me from trudging through the dark after work to the 40 degree
torture chamber studio for a 90-minute class last night.
Despite the unpleasant journey there, and the fact that my nailpolish peeled off in the heat and sweat kept running up my nose in the upside-downy poses, I had no regrets.
None that is, until I hung up my mat and headed back to the changeroom.
My purse, top and sweater were all where I’d left them.
Not so much.
After a thorough search and a check-in at the front desk, it was clear that someone walked off with them.
And they weren’t just any pants, either. They were the only pants I had brought with me. I was depending on these pants to get me home!
Fortunately, a couple of my coworkers were with me and one of them just happened to have an extra pair to loan me, because while I might be brave enough to wear teeny, tiny shorts to class, I am just not keen on wearing them home with my compression stocking and sneakers on a Canadian winter evening.
Now, I’m trying to give this pants thief the benefit of the doubt here and assume that someone just took them by (really weird) accident.
But if not, you have to admire their nerve. Stealing someone’s pants while they do yoga? Where it’s all sharing energy and positive vibes? That’s gotta be worth some negative karma.
Plus, I gave money to a stranger on the way home, proving that even though someone took my pants, I still believe that people are basically good and we should be kind to each other.
So this pants thief is totally screwed.