I tried capoeira for the first time the other day. And, no, it was not a “recreational” drug, but a Brazilian art form/fighting/dance technique that makes people who try it for the first time want to cry home to their mamas. I went with Maria, one of the coolest chicks I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. Since she’s so cool, I thought maybe I could make myself cool by association. And Maria loves capoeira. Chris was even talked into coming. After an hour and a half of making a total fool of myself, I thought, “Hey, that was really tough, but maybe I could get into it!”

This is how capoeira is supposed to look:

That's me on the right. You didn't know I was that flexible, did you?

And then the next morning came. Have you heard about those horrible surgery cases where the anesthesia doesn’t work properly and the person is awake but paralyzed for the entire procedure? I think I may know a little bit of what that must be like: I opened my eyes and realized that I could not move a single finger crying out in agony. Hey, I know I’m out of shape, but this was ridiculous. Maybe I had sleep-walked that night and got run over a bus, because my ego is too fragile to assume that I was that sore from a little exercise class. It’s been nearly two days now and every time I even try to sit down, an involuntary “Uuugghh” escapes my lips. Maria asked me to go again tonight, but I am lucky to have the excuse of a job interview, which, as I’m writing this, is in 30 minutes. Do you think she would start to suspect something if I told her I had a job interview every Tuesday and Thursday for the next year?

Written by Laura in: Culture |

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