Yo-gas

Despite my complete lack of athleticism, I have found an affection for yoga. I took a semester-long course in college and have dabbled at different studios since then. I usually take a class or two and then abandon it for six months and feel bad about myself and then start the cycle over again. Not too dysfunctional, right?

I HOPE I have finally found a yoga studio I really like and can commit to. It’s called Om Sweet Om (how freakin’ cute?) and it’s in Port Washington.

Image: omsweetomyoga.com
Image: omsweetomyoga.com
Image: the abyss that is Google Images

On Friday I took candlelight yoga which is a relaxing class to help you wind down from the week.  My hamstrings were still screaming from a tougher class on Tuesday so I was happy to find it was pretty low-impact. In the middle of the class I was feeling relaxed, I felt grounded to the earth, my chakras were aligned (I have no idea what that means) when the woman in front of me let one rip. Loudly. In case I’m not making myself clear, she FARTED.

If you’ve taken yoga before you know that this is not uncommon. There is a lot of opening and deep stretching and then contracting and I guess it just happens. I pursed my lips together to stifle my laugh and tried to keep quiet. Her noises didn’t stop there. She grunted and huffed her way through most of the class and it really messed up my meditation! Maybe I could have dealt with one distraction, but the lady that farts is also the lady that grunts?? Come on!

New to yoga? Lululemon Athletica (in Roosevelt Field and Manhasset) offers free classes on Sunday mornings. Go for it!

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