All About My Cock

I can not tell you the endless fun I have discussing my new pose.* I'm fairly certain the only reason I keep practicing the pose is to continue discussing its progress, or lack there of. That's not even a disparaging remark. I enjoy discussing either it's progress or it's stagnation; either way, I get into the most wonderfully inappropriate discussions that only myself or a 12 year old boy would find amusing. Endlessly amusing. Even when I try to keep it clean, the conversation results in gales of laughter (exclusively from me, I think everyone else has long since tired of the cock talk).

Example conversation I had last week:
Me: Have you ever found that if you aren't sufficiently sweaty you can't push up because your knees stick to your arms?
Yogi B: Are you asking if I have problems getting my cock up?

The thing is, I really DO have problems getting my cock up. If there is no sweat, my knees grind into my arms and all the tummy muscles in the world won't lift my lotus more than a grasshopper's kneecap from the ground. This led me to a shameful act.** It might have been the result of all the innuendo being thrown around, but after one particularly difficult practice at home, (I swear, I was getting a rash on my forearms) I went to the bathroom, pulled out the jojoba oil and rubbed some on my arms. Yes, you can say it out loud with me, I lubed my cock to get it up.

I think that might be my magnum opus with this pose. It is not likely I will have a more beautiful experience than looking my yoga teacher in the eye and saying, "Please help me, I can't go on stage and show the judges a greased cock."

* For those of you just joining us, I am learning 'cock' pose for the Asana Championships. This is essentially lotus being lifted by your extended arms.

**I really want to add the words, "with my cock." I know this is unnecessary verbiage but, like that Chinese fortune cookie game where you add the words, "in bed" to the end of your fortune, I find, "cock" makes every sentence regarding this pose more amusing.

RE: Your natural ability to correct yourself.

As you may know, I am training for the Illinois Asana Championships. This involves finding two 'freestyle' poses. These poses can be any pose from the advanced series. A feat complicated by the fact that I have never taken an advanced class. A friend and fellow competitor has had the privilege of being able to yell, "Cock!" on stage for the last several years under the guise that his posture is called that. Being thrilled with the idea of screaming "COCK!" to an audience without being thrown from the stage, I wanted to try my hand at the pose.

A teacher I highly admire was giving me some pointers last week. Showing me how to lean forward into the pose, the teacher encouraged me to lean forward as far as I could onto my palms. "When you feel like you may fall forward tighten your belly and pull up. Don't worry that you will fall forward, you will catch yourself before you do." he said, helpfully.

I pointed out that I had, not one week earlier, tried a transition into crow pose from standing. In this transition, when another teacher said, "Now lean forward and bend your elbows down just a bit." My elbows bent, wiggled a bit and gave way. I collapsed, face-first, into the floor. I heard a little 'pop' when as my nose hit, but there was no blood. Which is good because, out of embarrassment, I quickly threw myself up to standing, hands above head and shouted, "Im okay! Everything's good!" This would have looked even more ridiculous had there been blood streaming from my face.

One week prior:

The teacher was unmoved by my story of peril. In fact, it proved his point. "See," he explained happily, "you stopped yourself with your face!"

I am now absolutely sure that the fact that I am frightened of neither the instructor nor the pose verifies that I am mentally deficient.