I am pushing my hands into my mat as hard as I can. David, my Ashtanga teacher, is telling me to focus on my breathing, but all I can think of is the burning sensation at the back of my legs. Drops of sweat are making their way up to my hairline and distracting me from “being in the now”. Downward dog is killing me. And so is the battle of keeping my butt-cheeks pressed together like a mother***r to prevent this fart from escaping.

You can laugh all you want. But it’s not like this never happened to you. I know a part of yoga is about detoxifying your body,.. but there is a limit of how much of my detox I want the person next to me to experience.  Yoga just took on a whole new perspective.

Every time I move down into a new version of bending over wide legged I pray to god everything will just stay in place. David makes it worse coming over to adjust my posture by pushing down on my lower back. Meaning well, but inside I am just screaming “GO AWAY!!”

Then, just when the room goes quiet, and I forgot about the trapped air and I felt like I was making this super controlled move,.. It escapes with a noise that’s comparable with the bang a fighter jet makes when it flies through the sound barriers.

I bury my hands in my face wishing the ground would just swallow me up whole right there. But the lady next to me laughs and says: “Ahhh, don’t worry about it. Happens to the best of us.”

If anything, Fartsasana  was the most relieving thing I did in class. I could finally relax, and in complete bliss, thinking to myself, I am so happy it didn’t smell.
Note to self: http://manflowyoga.com/7-poses-that-make-you-art/