Last night I went to Bikram. To review, Bikram is a type of hot yoga, with a scripted, 90 minute program, done in a room at approximately 115 degrees. So, it's HOT. It's also a workout. Before I did yoga, I scoffed at it as a runner, thinking it couldn't possibly count as a workout. Some types of yoga are just gentle stretching, which I think has it's place in a workout regime. Bikram is not that type. It's not easy. I generally look like I got dunked in a pool when I'm finished, and contemplate calling 911 for myself at least four times per class. So, I try to wear the smallest amount of clothing possible, which is generally a tank top and shorts. Because, while I recognize that Bikram is hot, I also still recognize that I am in a PUBLIC PLACE.
Some people don't make that distinction.
I was in a long line of people on mats, with two guys to the left of me. The one directly next to me was fairly normal, other than looking like Napoleon Dynamite a bit. I didn't really see the other guy at first, because there are VERY strict rules in Bikram.
1. No talking
2. No looking around
3. No movements of any kind other than the ones expressly put forth by expert yogi Bikram himself
4. No water unless the instructor says even if everything is going black and you are seeing stars
It's that hardcore. The lights are off before class, and I didn't even know Lily was there until I randomly heard the instructor call her name to correct her form XX minutes in to class. The XX is because no clocks or watches are allowed either.
The point is, I didn't see this other guy until well into class, when we had to turn to our left. At this point everyone was good and sweaty. This is relevant because as I turned in my yoga pose to the left, I realized this guy was wearing nothing but underwear. The boxer brief type. I knew it was underwear, and not any type of compression shorts or anything because Eric has the exact same pair of underwear, and also because it was completely see through so I was now staring at this guy's bare ass under an extremely thin layer of soaking wet fabric.
When I got home and told Eric about the situation, the obvious course of action was to recreate the scenario so all of you could appreciate it.
We truly recreated it, underwear and all. Consider yourself warned.
The sad thing is, a mouse ran over my foot at work yesterday, so it wasn't even the most shocking/upsetting thing that happened to me on a Monday.
Question: Did this blog post go too far for entertainment value - or just far enough?