How it feels to do naked yoga in front of strangers
an A-grade prude and when it comes to the naked body I’ve developed a few hang-ups of my own. Yup, I’m that adult who lives alone and showers with the door closed. So in the name of facing my fears arse-on, I arrive at yoga sans clothes.
My overactive imagination has built this up to be some Jonestown-esque cult orgy that will end in us sacrificing a naked hipster then knocking back cider-laced Kool-Aid. Arriving at the studio, it’s comforting to see that our teacher, Rosie Rees, doesn’t look old enough to even know what Jonestown was.
Death cult aside, there’s still the terrifying “bending over naked in front of strangers” requirement, so I quickly make a beeline to the far back corner.
Feeling grateful I practiced naked in the lead-up to this class –- walking between the kitchen and bathroom at home a few times -– sitting on my mat wearing a robe, I actually start to feel relaxed about the whole thing.
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