Deep Thoughts From a 6am Backbend

I detest mornings. As such, I hate morning yoga. I hate it with a zealousness that could choke large mammals. Water buffalo. Possibly an average-sized T-rex. That is to say that I hate morning yoga more than I want tiger scorpion. Yeah, I said it. Poop just got real.

If the yoga fairy were to visit me in the night and say unto me, "Kate, I will give you a tiger scorpion so beautiful that Bikram himself will quake to look upon it, and in return you will do 6am yoga for a week." I would retort with some bull-cocky excuse about how I know yoga isn't about instant answers and the struggle is where the learning is, but inside I would be cursing that fairy for knowing my Achilles' heel.

The Yoga Fairy exists in state of perpetually perfect standing bow.*

* Illustrator's note: The standing bow is perfect, the rendition may not be.