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Everyone who has ever tried yoga knows that when you go to a class for the first time – it can be nerve-wracking. Take it from me – a beginner and newbie to yoga – who basically had an anxiety attack when the instructor kept telling me I was doing everything wrong (isn’t yoga supposed to be relaxing?)

Laura Mazza knows exactly how I feel. Mazza, the blogger behind Mum on the Run and mother of two decided to try a yoga class for the first time since having children and – she opened up about the experience, which, ended up being way worse than my experience and – also hysterical.

Mazza explained that after having kids, she suffered from “muscle separation,”

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.

Here’s where we knew we were in for a good one.

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.

Relatable AF.

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.”

“Ah laura”

“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.

Yeah – same.

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.

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.

They’re quiet, so I’m thinking holy fuck, thank god for that. But then we move to some position where my heads between my legs, and the smell hits me like a punch to the nose. I died inside and now I officially smell like something has also died inside.

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.

Pause while I wipe the tears off of my keyboard.

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.

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”

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.

Oh. My. God.

While the entire situation is traumatizing and embarrassing – I have to applaud Mazza for being so f*cking hilarious in the retelling and for hitting up McDonald’s instead (yes girl, yes). My heart goes out to you, fellow traumatized-yoga victim, but also, thank you for making my day.

Okay so that headline was probably bold enough to get you to click on it and you’re probably sitting on your phone/tablet/computer rolling your eyes saying ‘Who pissed in this girl’s coffee today?’ But, in all seriousness, I’m raging. Not raging, but, I’m bothered. I can count seventeen different times on my hands and toes how many girlfriends I have that tell me they don’t “fart” in front of their boyfriends. I’m not just talking those couples who are in the Honeymoon stage…I’m talking couples who have been together for years.

They also never use the bathroom to go number two when they’re at their boyfriend’s house. They want to maintain this mystical, magical and “beautiful” social appearance of being absolutely clean, perfect and pure, so, they keep an entire aspect of themselves locked away.

Let’s be honest here – everyone farts. Didn’t your parents ever read you the book ‘Everyone Poops‘ growing up? It’s human nature, it’s natural –it’s apart of our body’s way of maintaining health and hygiene, even if it seems gross.

Girls who claim they “don’t poop or fart” are really selling themselves short.

1. Why lie?

In retrospect, they’re liars for one and I’m a firm believer that if you lie about one thing, you’re setting yourself up for disaster in romantic relationships. Yes, even if it’s about farting. Your man knows you’re a human you’re not a f*cking alien and your body operates like any other human. If you’re dating a guy who can’t “handle” the fact that his girlfriend farts, you need to find yourself a new man.

2. Now you can’t eat good food with your man.

We all know that certain foods are more likely to give us gas – i.e.: tacos and beans. So, you’re telling me you’re going to eliminate all the delicious food in the world whenever it’s date night because you might let one slip while you’re in bed watching reruns of Game of Thrones? Spare me.

3. No one said you need to dutch oven him.

Just because you fart in front of someone doesn’t mean it needs to be broadcasted and announced. No one said you have to suffocate your boyfriend under the covers after you let one loose. But, you shouldn’t be always running off and hiding in a corner in shame if you slip.

4. It’s really, really bad for your health.

If you’re constantly holding yourself in – farting or going to the bathroom – eventually it’s going to negatively impact your stomach health. Your body operates the way it does for a reason, don’t mess with nature’s calling.

5. You’re perpetuating the sexist stereotype that girls have to be “perfect and pure.”

I’m not perfect and I am by no means pure. I like to get down and dirty in the mud with the boys every once in a while. Why would you want to date someone who confines you into a box and only sees you as being a trophy? By perpetuating this stereotype that “girls don’t fart/poop,” you’re allowing men to think that women who do are disgusting.

6. If a guy can’t accept me for me – boy, bye.

If you’re dating a man who can’t handle the fact that women fart, he’s a weak person and you need to find yourself someone new. There will be times in your life where you get sick and you’re vomiting your guts up over the toilet bowl – do you want to be dating someone who holds back your hair, or someone who says you’re disgusting and runs away?

Tag: farts

I’m Sick And Tired Of Women Claiming They ‘Don’t Fart In Front Of Their Boyfriends’