"Unfortunately with the way the snow is – quite clumpy and heavy – off the side of the track where I slipped into, my leg just stopped and I managed to twist myself," he said.
Yet miraculously, within an hour of my first wearing the finished suit, not only could I move my arms freely, I could imagine twisting myself into one of those Dovima-among-the-elephants poses.
Finally, maybe bored and tired of the repetition, of Ricardo's hectoring, of the ache in my neck from having to twist myself around to look straight out of the rear window every time we backed up, I began to screw up again.
Don once begged me for a couple of bucks then told me to twist myself into a pretzel.
If I did, there were times I could maneuver my leg up and twist myself to get a slight wipe.
And while I knew that practicing yoga was going to involve twisting myself into some pretty complicated positions, honestly, I never desired to contort my body into yours.
So I threw some pillows in the tub, trying to stabilize them and twist myself into some small degree of comfort until dawn arrived.
After 35 minutes of confidently twisting myself into gravity-defying yoga positions, I had returned to my usual self: Ashamed of my body.
I've learned not to twist myself to fit into a silly mold that values appearances over reality and form over substance.
There I'm blaming myself for his suspicious behavior in the hopes that if I can twist myself into the perfect pretzel shape, he'll stop "dragging his heels" in the relationship.
