Kristy takes 15 centuries of ancient Indian philosophy, crushes it into hashtag shaped lines and takes a big snort off the toilet seat of social media.
She wasn’t always the pretentious walking #inspo quote that you see today. Oh no, @yogiqueenyass started out like all addicts do, by dipping her toes in the water of wankery.
First, it was afternoon classes and then, weekend morning sessions, but the addiction didn’t land it’s deathblow until she learned that Instagram fucking loves that Yoga shit. The more she stretched the more her Instagram following grew.
Soon her phone was like Marky Mark as all she could feel were the good vibrations. Notification after notification, “yassss kween slayyyy”. I’m sure the ancient Indian Yogis were all about @’ing Lululemon in a desperate bid for an endorsement.
The problem was, every basic bish and her cat was posting Yoga photos. She grew to be one of those unfadeable skidmarks that say namaste but hates on other skidmarks who say namaste, because they didn’t go on a 2 week Indian Yoga retreat like she did.
Her zen was thrown out of whack one day when she spotted a rival yoga queen performing a perfect scorpion on a boogie board while gently cruising a wave at City Beach. Her paddleboard salute to the sun was complete digital afterbirth compared to that.
She tries reposting a photo of her downward dogging next to an Indian lepper. Fuck, that other bitch still got more likes. She only had one choice, a hold my beer moment, well, more of a “hold my organic activated Wolfe brand kale shake-moment”.
She goes full yogtard after hearing about some Yogis offering the purest shit in town. A ghee massage, followed by horseback yoga. This shit is the Fentanyl of yoga. She needed a taste, as the lack of Instagram growth has her fiending like the hamburgular at a labia convention.
Slippery from the Ghee, she mounts her stallion. Her cameraman snaps away as she makes easy work of an elevated pose at trot speed. The rush hits her, and she takes the horse to a gallop. High off her tits on #yasss, she attempts a wounded peacock.
For a split second, she held the position, before slipping and flying off like Superman, and then very nearly Reeving herself on an awkward fall. Ribs bruised, makeup fucked, she limps over to her cameraman, “did you capture that?”
Yes! He fucking did. For a split second, she was supporting her weight with one hand on horseback. She considers the photo for about 10 minutes, “I think my bum looks fat in that, let’s do it again babes”.
A ruptured spleen and a cracked femur later, she’s done it. A wounded peacock on horseback. She posts:
“Life is a journey, ride with peace, you do you girl, and nobody can stop you #namaste #yoga #indianretreat #horseback #boogieboardlol #yogakween #yasss #blessed #peace #youcandoit.”
Stage an intervention already.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?