Mom's First Time Doing Yoga Ends In Everybody's Worst Nightmare
I remember my first time trying yoga, I wisely did it at home, following YouTube tutorials before going out in the world in a room full of trim and flexible people and embarrassing the hell out of myself to no end.
Laura Mazza, mother of two and author of the popular blog, Mum on the Run, recounted her first, and likely last, experience with yoga. To say the experience was an emotional rollercoaster would be a huge understatement.
Her story starts off innocently enough.
I'd like to say I'm making this story up, but alas no. This actually happened tonight. This is long so bare with me.
I have muscle separation. Having kids separated my abominal wall like Moses parting the Red Sea. Yeah it's not good and my stomach kinda points out like a cone. So you know, I am trying to get fitter and fix it so it was suggested by a physio to try yoga.
Ha...hahahahahahahahahahahaha. Yeah. Okay so.
I put on a pair of yoga pants, because for someone who has never done yoga, really, I seem to own a lot of yoga pants. I got the pair that looked less "Ball-y" from sleeping in and yanked them up nice and high and got a clean top. I was wearing my regular nanna jocks. No time for g strings here.
We got into the class and it was dark and there's candles everywhere. (Just a slight fire risk you guys), I'm thinking, holy shit this is real yoga, not like 5, 6, 7, 8 and stretccchh... this is 'im going to go to a high place of enlightenment' right here.
Everyone's talking to each other and the trainer, yoga master, limber yoda, whatever... is talking to everyone and like talking to them, she's saying "how's Daryl and his leg...?" And I'm there hiding in the corner thinking "please for the love of god do not notice me"
Everyone's taking off their socks and I'm thinking oh lord, my toes are hairy and I didn't shave them, I only dry shaved my ankles in case my pants ride up.
So I'm looking out at all these slender women with their nice tight yoga pants, and mine with the 80's flare at the bottom. They all take off their socks to reveal manicured toes and here I am with my froddo feet, trying to hide in the corner so I don't have to talk about my personal life.
Then ashram yoga guru says loudly "oh we have a new member tonight. We are blessed with the company of....??"
And then I replied with... "oh yes. And I am blessed with your company" I don't know why I said that, probably because I'm a social idiot.
And she said "oh sorry I was after your name."
"Okay" she asked me a few more questions where I fumbled my way through and then I started talking about my muscle separation and her eyes glazed over and I trailed off.
"Welcome" she smiled while her skinny body moved down like a slinky.
We started doing these random positions, moving into the upward facing dog and I feel a nice crack in my back, thinking i can do this...I totally love yoga. I am a yoga girl!! Look at me so fit right now.
Then the unthinkable happened.
We move into the downward facing dog... and that's when I started to feel my guts.
Now for the past few weeks I have had IBS Symptoms like something crazy. My farts stink like something mixed between a rotten egg and an incineration plant.
And somewhere between the dolphin position and the three legged dog two of those burning garbage eggs slip out and I fart.
I farted. I farted at yoga. I'm a walking cliche. My pelvic floor has failed me.
At first, she tries deluding herself into thinking that because the farts are silent no one will notice and decides to chug along like a good trooper.
I'm thinking, do I leave? Do I leave the country? Is this happening?? IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME? Not only do I look like a slob but now I stink too.
Okay. I gather my resolve and say you know what? Whatever. Everyone farts and I can't help it. I continue attempting thede ridiculous positions and suck in my core. Fitness here we come.
We then go down on this position where we stretch right out but our legs are like a frog on the floor. The teacher then came around and pushed everyone down lower... I thought oh good, gonna get a nice crack in my back again. I hold in my butthole nice and tight to make sure no farts escape again.
She comes over... pushes my back down...And buuuuuuuuuurrppppfffffff
The loudest trumpet comes out of my ass.
I froze and thought oh my god. Oh my god.OH MY GOD. Sweet baby Jesus. What just happened. I'm dreaming. Surely. I'm in a nightmare.
My face flushes red and I have tears in my eyes from the embarrassment.
The shame was real.
I got up, attempted to roll up my yoga mat but couldn't do it, so I just kinda chucked it to the side.. and grabbed my shoes and socks and my bag all in my arms and basically bolted out the door.
I turn around just as I'm closing the door And look up embarrassed to see everyone on their knees wide eyed staring at me in shock... (or in an awake coma from the smell)\
And guru ashram yoga teacher looks at me, bows her head and joins her hands together and says "namaste"
So real, the only thing that could fix it was a sundae.
And I think nah I'm a go, and I run out the door and now I'm sitting at McDonald's eating a sundae crying and laughing.
Sorry physio. I'm never ever ever EVER, doing yoga again. Fuck the muscle separation.