Namaste, Bitches.

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Photo By: Yours Truly

“You know, carrot sticks are like natures candy…..My hips are soooo open right now….Let’s do wheatgrass shots after this….I lost my voice from om-ing too much.”  By the way, if you haven’t seen Shit Yogis Say on YouTube, you’re missing out. I wouldn’t consider myself a yogi by any means. I took a yoga class in college as an elective (which was a great way to spend Mom & Dad’s tuition money) and absolutely loved it. Dad wasn’t too excited when he heard I signed up for a yoga class. Namaste, Dad. That semester I was signed up for 16 credits and worked part-time (20+ hrs) at a shit job. My yoga class was on Wednesdays which was PERFECT to break up the week. That semester was in much need of some namaste time.

Since college, I’ve taken a class here and there but never got into a yoga routine. I signed up for a yoga class this past Saturday with a friend to see if I wanted to get back into yoga. I also thought it would be a good way to meet people. I got up that Saturday morning, got dressed, ate an avocado for breakfast, grabbed my yoga mat and headed down to the yoga studio. The studio was the size of a living room or large bedroom, which only allowed 7 or 8 people to practice. We each got our blocks, bolster, blankets, strap and mat all set up, found our spot and sat there waiting for the class to begin. Some people stretched, some people just sat there staring ahead, and some talked to their neighbor. I did a little stretching and then sat on my mat, cross legged, taking in everything. The light was very dim. Some lamps were surrounded by curtains to dim the light, while the lights among the ceiling tiles you would see in a hospital room were covered with blankets. Very meditative sounding music played in the background; all except for the one song I recognized from the Garden State soundtrack, which was an interesting music choice for a yoga class. The decor was very random. A large photo of a waterfall hung on the front wall, next to anatomy charts showing the different muscles in the human body. There was a cot set up in front of me with a salt rock/night light on the side table. I could smell hints of patchouli, sandalwood, and jasmine. The facility wasn’t ideal, but that didn’t stop me from relaxing. We hadn’t even started the class yet and all I wanted to do was curl up like a cat and fall asleep. Already relaxed? Check.

You may have begun to start to feel the sensations and relaxation by picturing yourself in this experience, yes? Before you do, just realize that I’m about to take it to an inappropriate place where you may or may not want to continue reading…Before I go on, especially for those who don’t really know me well, there are some things that you may need to know. Nothing is considered off-topic. I have no filter and have no problem speaking my mind or talking about things that some people tend to get uncomfortable around. If you are one of those people who get uncomfortable talking about sex, farting in public, menstrual cycles, the human anatomy, or anything about poop, I suggest you stop reading my blog completely. Inevitably, I will write about one or all of these things.

The class begins by sitting cross legged, hands on the knees in a meditative pose, inhaling, exhaling, eyes closed, focusing the mind on relaxing each part of your body; taking out the furrow in your brow, relaxing your forehead down to your chin, relaxing through your shoulders to your stomach, grounding your sits bone into the floor. It’s that moment where you are in full relaxation where you feel your spirit lift, your body settle, and your state of mind in absolute tranquility, that you begin to feel your stomach shift and then feel the fart coming on. Relaxation is out the window. At this point, all you’re focusing on is controlling your stomach and intestines from letting out a huge fart. You can’t just let it go with the possibility of it being either: A. Loud  B. Smelly  C. Offensive or D. All of the Above. You feel your butt cheeks clench and your brow starts to furrow. Goddamn it. This is supposed to be an hour and a half of relaxation, meditation, and stretching. Ah, hell no. Your chakras start to fall out of alignment as you fight the urge to fart.

There is a definite correlation with relaxation and farting. Emotional Relaxation and Physical Relaxation. Emotionally: When you get to that stage of a new relationship where you are comfortable around each other, accept each other for everything, love each other no matter what, and can talk about anything and also do anything around each other. Including butt rockets. I can remember when C-money and I started dating and we were getting closer to that point in our relationship when we were comfortable enough to literally let ourselves go. Before, you could hear each other’s stomachs going crazy and you knew that person had to fart. It wasn’t long until we were farting around each other like it was nothing. Laughing at each other, looking at each other with disgust, or gagging from the wretched smells was a new element of our relationship. I can actually remember calling him after an epic fart while driving to class just to share my amazement. Now after almost 5 years of marriage, I’m totally comfortable taking a dump with the door wide open. Everybody poops. Physically: Relaxing your mind and body, letting go of everything, your body relaxes even further by expelling toxins from your body. (Not sure if that’s scientifically true, but it sounds legit.) Elliott is the queen of all dog farting. She’ll stretch or lay down to relax, almost instantly she farts. You’ll know by the audible sound or by the awful smell. She farts more than any dog I know. Sometime she’ll be laying down, fart really loud, and turn around looking at her butt like, “what the hell was that?!” Sometimes she’ll find herself so offensive that she will get up and leave after farting. The other day she farted really loud and got all embarrassed. C-money and I stood there laughing until we had tears in our eyes while she shifted her weight back and forth, wagged her tail, and got this ashamed look in her eyes.

I looked over at the big clock on the wall and only 20 minutes had gone by. Shit. An hour and 10 more minutes of this until I can leave and fart in peace. I may be crude, but I’m not crude enough to fart in a small space with a bunch of strangers. I at least wait until I’m outside and have the opportunity to crop dust like a lady. 😉

We got up on all fours to begin the next pose. She had us rock our hips back towards our heels into child’s pose. Ideal farting position. Again, I couldn’t concentrate on the pose or relaxing my body and pelvis. All I could think of was not farting in the face of the poor girl behind me. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Time to come out of the pose and go back into all fours. I honestly can’t remember the rest of the series of poses because I had a mission: not to fart in class. It’s not like the feeling crept up on me every 30 seconds. I actually did get some relaxation in. It just so happened that those moments of relaxation were interrupted by the urge to fart. I’m almost positive someone in the class wasn’t able to hold one in. There was a moment where I thought I could smell butt-pourri. At that moment I was glad I wasn’t the only one struggling.

That was the longest hour and a half I’ve ever had to endure. I can proudly say that I made it the whole class without farting. Success. Maybe next time I’ll watch what I eat or take Beano before class.

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2 thoughts on “Namaste, Bitches.

  1. judy says:

    Sounds like a torture session! Somehow I failed miserably in my attempts to instill filters in your sweet brain! You crack me up…

  2. Callee says:

    I’d say, let ‘er out and have a good laugh. Laughing is also relaxing 🙂

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