Flat-Out Celeste Read Online Free PDF

It’s unnerving when you use my first name.”
    Celeste shrugged as they entered the yoga room. She gasped. “Oh dear, it is quite warm in here.”
    “It is called hot yoga for a reason. But I’ve found it to be quite invigorating. I think you might like this experience.”
    Celeste followed her mother to a spot in the large room and mimicked how her mother set up her things. “Thank you for purchasing all of these lovely starter materials for my new adventure. I know the capri pants were expensive, but I read that low-quality ones can become see-through when saturated with one’s sweat, and that would be humiliating. I believe that is a reasonable concern given that I am already sweating, and I have not yet begun any poses.”
    Erin lay back on her mat and closed her eyes. “That’s normal. We get here twenty minutes early to adjust to the heat and let our bodies and minds prepare for class.”
    After swooping her long hair onto the top of her head and tying it into a puffy knot of curls, Celeste also spread out on her mat and shut her eyes. Despite worrying that—given how she was already drenched in sweat—performing actual yoga work might be problematic, she did her best to envision success. This class would put her in touch with an untapped side of herself, and she would be ignited with a new fire. Her mother might be dismissive of the entire notion of a new identity, but Celeste was not. Her determination to no longer be on the social-pariah end of the spectrum once she entered college was strong. So she would be strong. And she would be a yogist. Was “yogist” even a word? No, of course it wasn’t. The hundred-and-five-degree temperature was affecting her in a most basic way. Celeste did not forget words. She was becoming a yogi. Or a yogini, which was a word that she thought to be beautiful and romantic. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to convince herself that she was one with the oppressive heat.
    Celeste the yogini had a wonderful sound to it. She envisioned herself organizing a yoga club while at college and the eagerness of students to sign up, a crowd around her as she answered questions about times, gave advice for first-timers, and assured everyone that they would all do very well. Leading yoga would propel her to social acceptance, she was sure.
    But twenty minutes into the official start of the class, Celeste’s hopes for a yogini lifestyle were diminishing. Hot yoga was despicable. Truly. It was difficult to know if her vision was blurred from the sweat that poured tirelessly into her eyes or from the dizziness that had overtaken her, but in either case, she was undeniably miserable. And hot. Oh Lord, it was hot. She understood from her reading that she was supposed to keep her pose steady and firm, her mind clear and content, and that perfection would come from deep relaxation into this process, but that was becoming increasingly difficult. And, if she recalled correctly, the goal was to reach for what was called the infinite .” At this point, infinite sweat was the only success she’d achieved.
    A glance in the mirror reflected that Celeste was shaking and not exactly demonstrating perfect pose. She peeked to see how her mother was doing. It didn’t appear that Erin was anything but deeply involved in reaching for the sky and probably breathing in some sort of soothing, healing manner while the earth aligned around her or whatnot. This standing triangle pose, or “Trikanasana” pose as the instructor called it, was straining her body. And the name sounded horrifyingly reminiscent of one of the many bacteria she was probably being exposed to in this sweat lodge.
    Celeste refocused. This was a poor attitude that she was entertaining, and she would allow herself to experience this opportunity to the fullest and find her true calling, and yoga really was the perfect calling for her… if it weren’t for the never-ending, excruciating, stifling heat.
    In an effort to combat the