The Yoga Fart

The room was packed. We were a third of the way through an eighty-minute hot yoga class. And it wasn't even while doing a pose, but while turning around to sit down on the mat and take a rest. And no, it wasn't me. But it could have been.

The woman was between me and the wall, but her mat was a few feet forward of mine, which pretty much put my face in line with her butt. Since it happened when we were sitting down to take a rest, there was no music on. The room was quiet. And it wasn't a tiny fart. It was a big one, unexpected, because when you're sitting down to rest, you have your guard down about that sort of thing. It echoed throughout the room. It was unmistakable. 

What could anyone do but continue on? Pretend it didn't happen? The next sound in the room was the instructor advising us to "Take deep, rich breaths." Being in the position I was, I didn't really want to take deep, rich breathes. "And focus on your intention." 

Focus, I thought. Focus on your intention. My intention is always the same: kindness. And that's what I focused on. I focused on sending kindness to the woman who'd let one slip. I sent kindness and love and understanding. I sent calm and peace and comfort. No one will laugh or point or think any less of her. I sent the assurance that we all experience these moments at some point, that we're all in this together. With every fiber of my sweaty being, I sent positive energy and friendship her way. I sent a reminder that yoga is not about judgement. That the mat is a safe place. And that everything is going to be okay. Because sure, it wasn't me this time. But it could have been. 

Yoga Wardrobe Malfunction

I've pretty much worn the same exercise top for the past four years. It's a gray t-shirt. Boring and old. In light of the fact that my yoga obsession has a reached a fever pitch of late, I decided to treat myself to new gear. I went to Title 9. Note: I cannot afford Title 9. I went anyway and bought four expensive tops for yoga. They are colorful and have elastic to keep parts in place. They are tank tops with cool necklines that I'm sure have fancy words to describe the cut, but I don't know what those words are. In any case, I was very excited.

I went to one of my regular classes. I arrived late and the room is small, so I was relegated to the front, right next to the teacher. We began with opening awareness and the setting of intentions. The usual drill. I felt good in my new top. I felt downright fashionable.

We stood and the heat kicked on. The room was already warm and this was not a hot yoga class. The heating system was simply malfunctioning and forcing us into a hot yoga class.

We began a standing series. We flowed. And it quickly became apparent to me that my cute little new top would not, in fact, contain my breasts. This, despite the presence of what I considered a built-in bra. They hovered dangerously close to escape during down dog, but then really threatened to break free when I came through for up dog.

This is a picture of upward facing dog. Except this woman was smart enough to secure her breasts first. 

Shit, I muttered, which completely contradicts the peace-love-free-calm-happy feeling that I strive for in yoga. I tried to discreetly tuck the girls back into place a few times. But when you're standing at the front of the class and everyone else is facing you, discretion is tricky. It simply wasn't going to work.

The heat continued to malfunction and pour into the room from a vent above me. At the same time, I admitted defeat and put on my hoodie. It was my only option, other than leave. The hood fell down over my face on every forward fold, the ridiculous amount of clothing I wore, combined with the relentless heat, made me extremely uncomfortable, which again, contradicts the whole point. But I finished the class with my boobs hidden from sight. For which I believe my classmates are truly grateful. I still love the top, and it will look great with a pair of jeans. But when it comes to yoga, I'm going with my old gray t-shirt.