farting in yoga

2015 is here, a new year and a fresh start.  I love the possibilities that a new year presents---12 months to pack with adventures, new experiences, mistakes, learning opportunities, and growth.  I won't set a word or intention for this year---I'm just going to try to be flexible to whatever comes my way, both the good and the bad.  We'll see how that goes.

In the meantime, here's what I'd like to discuss-----yoga.  And more specifically, farting in yoga.  Why is nobody talking about farting in yoga class?  I love yoga and I've been enjoying taking all different types of classes in the area.  But I have to be honest here----I spend seriously like 95% of class thinking about farting, obsessing about it actually.  How come nobody is farting or talking about it or obsessing about it like me?  I am fully aware that this is counterintuitive to the whole yoga thing!      It's hard to get in the zone and be present with rumbles in the jungle.

I say farting, but I think my friend describes it better when she refers to it as "air leaving the body".  It's more all-encompassing that way.

And even though nobody is obsessing about it, I like to continually bring it up to my friends and pretty much force them to talk about it.  Basically I just want them to admit that it's a real and true issue for them, too.  After birthing five babies, it's an issue that's real and present for me.  I want it to be real for other people, too.

Google it, people!  I did.  It's a real problem.

So you know what?  I will have a resolution this year.  It's not to worry about farting in yoga.  I will do my three-legged dog and see what comes my way.  I will do inversions and plow and not give one care.  And I will continually force everyone and anyone to talk about bodily functions with me, making me feel better. ;)

And if you're offended by this blog post, I'm sorry, but I'm too busy farting in yoga to care.

xo

Growing old and the great invisibility cloak

2014 was pretty much the best year ever for me.  I learned to take things in stride, to stress less, to welcome scary things (like the good kind of scary things) into my life.  I learned to stretch and grow and do all that awesome stuff that you promise yourself you'll do at the beginning of a new year.  I made a lot of milk, I had surgery on my ass, I gained a ton of weight, and recently lost a ton of weight.  I went on dates with my friends and rented a beach cottage and went on retreats and started taking yoga and spent time with my kids and read a lot of books.  And I learned the biggest lesson of all...

the older I get, the braver I get...and I am able to do so because I am becoming more and more invisible. 

Maybe 'invisible' isn't the best word for what I'm talking about.  I just find that lately I can pretty much do whatever I want, wear whatever crazy-ass gypsy outfit I dream up, and nobody cares.  I can try new things or fail or succeed or stay in bed all day long and it doesn't matter. Maybe the secret is nobody ever cared and my fear just tricked me into thinking they did.  Maybe people still care and I just don't give a shit.

Maybe the teenagers at the grocery store call me "Ma'am" and offer to load my truck up with groceries, and we all know damn well that that means I am officially getting old.

Whatever it is, it's awesome!  Like really life-changing awesome.  People don't notice me, and if they do, I don't notice or give one crap if they do!  I am free from the fear of other people judging me. 

For 2015, if I want to try it, I will!  If I want to take a siesta and do face masks and watch Girlfriend's Guide to Divorce all day I will.  If I want to wear stretch pants out in public and pretend they are real pants and, oh yeah, I'm wearing my slippers, too, then BONUS.  I'm feeling it.  I'm getting old and I'm wrapping myself up in this rad invisibility cloak and I'm going to do

WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT.

*The End*