Downward facing total bitch

I've had most of my piercings for so long it's easy to forget that they're even there, until I'm in a situation where a stranger sees me naked. Like in bed (ha!) or, as it happened tonight, the locker room at the local yoga studio.

I shower there because of the free hot water and Dr. Bronner's Peppermint Soap. Don't care if it stings the pink, it smells la-lovely. All-One or None, whatever that means. Lunatic.

Anyway, there I was toweling off, being all mature and ok with my body, when I caught a chuchotement coming from a woman standing a discreet four feet away from me. She was blow drying her cheap dye job and doing that whisper-yell thing to her friend next to her.

"les percages, check ,... [inaudible] ... l'air cochonne"

EXCUSEZ-VOUS! Un air quoi?!

Ok, lady. Just because I said I'm from Boston doesn't mean I don't understand French. (Bitch!)

And that face can be understood in any language, except blind-o.

But you know what? Whatever, Madame Salt-and-pepper Pubes. Maybe this would have riled me before, but yoga's changed me. I'm serene and shit now.

And I can see to the heart of the matter, really understand your pain and insecurity. You were just jealous because my wide-legged forward bends rocked yours rather hard.

Besides, those thighs must be karma.

NAMASTE.