Instead I had signed up for a circular breathing class that would have my prana angrily pushing out the chemical toxins of my soul.
Don't you hate it when that happens?
There were 2 others in my class. A hard-of-hearing octogenarian with boundless curiosity (these are 2 characteristics that make for constant interruption), and a woman from the Ukraine who had been practicing this art-form for a few years.
Then we began ... 45 minutes of pronounced intake and exhaling of breath that passes you through phases of dry throat, wooziness, into uncontrolled violent spasms, strange cramps and audible moans.
The experienced Eastern European breather didn't have spasms and cramps because she had already expelled her toxins.
So instead she just orgasmed for 20 minutes.
Meanwhile our teacher's mantra of 'good breathing' is tattooed into the inside of your eyelids. It's at this point that I expected someone to unbutton my pants.
Finally we stop, and a euphoric 15 minutes of bliss surges through your body as your brain says, "Thanks for going back to breathing normally you asshole".
45 minutes of heavy breathing made the 80-something want to pee.
Afterwards we all spoke of our experience. Loudly for the old guy, and without eye contact for the flushed post-orgasmic lady.
Our Germanic teacher told me that my spasms were ridding my body of the chemicals that my mum embedded into me when she accepted medication at my birth.
I'll be sure to scold my mum this weekend for her thoughtlessness, and the overwhelming embarrassment she caused me in a stuffy room in a business park 41 years after my birth.
I've signed up to go again next month.