Disclaimer: If you are taking yoga lessons with me, well… now you know it all. Inspired by all the “Women Who Don’t Give A Fuck”, today I let down a mask:
I fart at Yoga.
I mean… who doesn’t? Ok, I may do it slightly more than others – as far as I’m aware, since the noise always seem to come from my derriere, and not from the neighbour’s. To my defence, I do have quite a bit of issues with the ol’ belly, and some days, I could probably heat up a small town with natural gas.
I hear all of you yoga teachers out there – “Farts are natural, and a yoga class is a place where you shouldn’t pretend to be anyone else, so it’s OKAYYYYY”. Yup, I’m well aware of it. But when you are like me, i.e. the type of person who can rollerblade without pushing (slight exaggeration) or who really startle your dog with a sudden RRAKATATAAA, giving it post-traumatic stress disorder (barely an exaggeration), you can’t just let it go. I guess you can, but it takes a shit ton of not giving a fuck, and sometimes, I am indeed self-conscious about my bubbly self.
You can and you should just let it out, actually – but you know what the worst thing would be? I would just start laughing my ass off, and THEN I would actually disturb the whole group. Every class is the same: I feel the little love bubbles (I invented that to legitimize my farts to my boyfriend) piling up, and you know that at the next forward fold, or worst, Malasana (a.k.a Yogi Squats), you will have to focus deeply.
Yes, focus. Not on keeping it in – hell no!! “who doesn’t fart nor burp shall one day explode” and I don’t want that – but on the art of letting it out. Nice. And. Slow. Silently. No vibration allowed. I say the art, because no fart rookie can succeed in such a feat. If it stays in, that means cramps, so no bueno. Its got to go.
Let me put you in situation: you just went through a few intense asanas sequences, and the teacher finally brings you into a lovely child’s pose. Aaaah. Reward. Relaxation. This is exactly when you feel one coming. The satisfying (but selfish) thing to do would be to just push it the hell out, so the bloating can finally reduce (ibid. RATATATAAAA). Not really an option at this point. So you try to be as subtle as you can. The good thing is, Child’s Pose is actually a great farting pose (there are a few), where your butt cheeks, not hugging each other, can let one pass without too much trumpeting. Success.
Potential problem? Da smell. Of course, the “silent but deadly” ones are to be afraid of. And of course, it’s always JUST before your awesome teacher comes to press gently on your lower back to help in the stretch. Of course. You can’t do anything, but keep breathing. At least, no one can see your flushing face.
Small parenthesis: I have this theory, that a smell is composed of a certain number of molecules – thank god it’s not infinite. So theoretically, if YOU smell all of them before anyone else, you may save them from the stench. Makes sense, no? I know – not fun, but some sacrifices are sometimes necessary. End of parenthesis.
So what do you do in the situation above?
Inhaaaaaaaale,
Exhaaaaaaaaale.
Namaste.
PS. I would like to apologize to all my present and former Yoga teachers, and co-yogis. But on a good note, based on this article, I may help making you live longer…