Inappropriate Laughter

So, the thing is I hate feet. I think they are gross. My sister used to chase me around and threaten to touch me with hers. I hate her feet. They're not particularly gross or anything, but I don't want them touching me. Ever. EVER. 

But, sometimes when you practice yoga, you have to touch your feet. For example, today the yoga instructor had us doing the happy baby pose, supposedly it's good for your back. 

At the end of every session there is a period called savasana, which for those of you who don't practice yoga is at the end of class where you just sort of lie there with your eyes shut and relax. You're not supposed to think about anything but your breath. Today's yoga instructor likes to do what they call an "assist." It's basically where she rubs some aromatherapy stuff on her hands and she sort of pushes on your shoulders, moves your neck around and sort of massages your scalp a bit. 

It smells good and it's relaxing. Usually. Today, all I could think is that she touched her feet with those hands and is now rubbing my hair with them. Which logically should have grossed me out, but instead made me want to giggle. A lot. I'm pretty sure that goes against the enlightened, zen sort of attitude that we're supposed to take during savasana, so I tried very, very hard to keep it under control. 

And I was very nearly successful at that. 

Poor woman. 

Someday, I'll be a grown up and I won't laugh at inappropriate stuff. Um, maybe.