She shoved her hands down her yoga pants and tugged- aggressively - at the wayward underwear. They - the underwear - had apparently shifted amid the warrior variations and pigeons and child's poses. They - apparently - worked their way - way up in there.
She told me this after I described how I'd become a little self conscious when adjusting my dangly bits to accommodate the upcoming tree pose. I've reached a point where flexibility has consequences.
We shared our unmentionables - our stories of wayward bits and cloth. We laughed. We spit wine. We laughed some more.
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