Funny Yoga Mat Craigslist Ad Describes Hot Yoga Hell

Craigslist is not only a treasure trove of barely used blenders and patio furniture but also hilarious ads.

Craigslist has had this particular ad for quite some time, and it still makes us laugh.

One man in Seattle has listed a $1 yoga mat on his website. The mat has only been used once, but its owner has put it through a lot, which is why the price is so low.

The ad describes the harrowing experience he had at his first hot yoga class in five years. The ad is full of details, including the mustache-like sweat that forms above his lips and how excessive perspiration and body odor led to an untimely ending to a relationship (that was totally imaginary) with the cute yogi next to him.

Below is the complete text of this funny Craigslist ad for a yoga mat:

Yoga mat for sale. Used only once in December 2009 during lunch hour. Use the following timeline:


Register for a hot yoga class. I’m told by infinite wisdom to purchase a 5-class package and buy a yoga mat. I pay $89.74. Money well spent, I tell myself.


Open the door to the yoga room. I feel a rush of hot, dry air. It smells like sweat, breath, and heat. You can take a spot in the back room next to the cute blonde. We will date.


I want to be as close to naked as possible. It’s a problem because I am about to court the blonde on my left. She won’t be happy to hear that I have to lose 30 pounds to propose to her.


The sweatshirt and shirt must be removed. I decided to throw caution to the wind and rely on my wit to overcome any issues with weight that my fiancee might have. It will take a great deal of wit and fitness to achieve this.


Start small talk with your future bride. She pretends not to notice me, but I can tell how she is. I let her concentrate on the straightforward and pretend I’m not there. After we finished our special moment, I noticed that a mustache had appeared below my nose. It must be all the whispering we have been doing.


The instructor enters the classroom and climbs up to her podium in the front. She is a Chinese woman who appears to be agitated and small. She introduces me in front of the class, and everyone turns to greet me as I aggressively adjust both my penise and testes that are packed inside my Under Armor. My bride seems unfazed.


As I have done Hot Yoga before (4 sessions in just five years), I am confident that my instructor will ask me to lead the class. She will be watching me with a twinkle in her eyes. After class, we will have a little sex.


The temperature in the room has now reached 95 degrees. For the past 8 minutes, we have been practicing deep breaths. We would have no problem if everyone were breathing oxygen. We are instead inhaling each other’s body smell, carbon dioxide, and other unmentionables. Don’t worry. I’ll talk about them later.


The temperature is now around 100 degrees, and the humidity is at 90%. I notice the familiar, adoring gaze of my wife and turn to face her. She looks nauseated. I realized that I had forgotten to brush my teeth before attending the class. We are bonded.


Now, it is 110 degrees with 95% humidity. Now I’m balancing with one leg and the other crossed over. I have my arms intertwined and am squatting. This is the same position I held 44 years ago, in my womb. But I am committed to this. My wife is looking a little weathered; her eyeliner has run down her face, and she’s dripping with sweat. We are committed to “for better or for worse,” so we continue.


Sweat is running down the legs of the Hispanic man, who is two spots overweight. At least, I believe it’s sweat. He has been holding all positions and not drinking water since we entered. He makes me look bad, and I hate him.


I think that if someone in this room farted, we’d all die.


I am sweating profusely. It’s now 140 degrees with 100% humidity. From head to toe, I am drenched in sweat. I am slick and sweaty on every square millimeter of my body. I feel like I’m a sea eel or maybe a sea lion. A beartrap could not hold me. My eyes are stinging from the sweat, and I am unable to see.


The room smells like tuna, asparagus, cloves, and tacos. The room is empty. This is the combination of 30 people’s body odors in a room at 140 degrees for the past 55 minutes. Really, stop with the asparagus!


One hundred forty degrees with 130% humidity. Look, b*tch. I need to have my own space, so don’t be mad at me if you accidentally get sprayed with sweat when I flip over. Is that the direction this relationship is heading? It would be best if you got over yourself. She needs counseling and medication. Stat!


Cloudy and 150 degrees. It’s hot. I am unable to move my legs on my own. I’ve given up trying to obey any of these Chinese commands that this chick is shouting at us. I will remain seated until the help unit arrives. I will purchase this building and then destroy it.

I lose consciousness.


My wife is a selfish b*tch, and I’m suffering from a headache. I can’t breathe. All I can imagine is holding a full cup of hot sand in my mouth. I can’t remember what an “ice cube” is, nor what snow looks like. My only way out might be to do a crabwalk across 15 bodies, then leave the room. The crab walk is out for me because I may never be able to walk again and am paralyzed.


I am unable to move and reach my water. Is breathing voluntary? If it’s voluntary, I am screwed. I quit participating in class 20 minutes ago. Hey, lady! You know, I paid for the class! You work for me. Tell us a joke or a story instead of yelling. Is it like cracker and juice time?

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