My friend Manolo the Shoeblogger—one of the great Internet prose stylists of our time—has an idea:
It is Monday, and coming back from the Pilates this morning you ran into your old frenemy, Jenny, who described for you at great and exhausting length her new workout regime: the form of acrobatic “hot” yoga, which involves contorting oneself into the variety of unlikely positions, in the room heated to 120 humid degrees, while the small Indian man shouts quasi-religious non sequiturs at you.
“Inward, you will take your awareness now…”
Frankly, you would probably be more interested in yoga (Jenny does look great) except as the Roman Catholic you already have the mystical religion, thank you very much, and are not in need of the second more exotic one.
And then, on your way back to the office, it hits you: Catholic Yoga!
Read the whole thing, as they say.