“I’d like to say I’m making this story up, but alas no … ”
So begins a raucous Facebook post by writer Laura Mazza of Mum on the Run that’s swiftly going viral for one main reason: Everybody loves a wildly embarrassing tale at someone else’s expense — especially a hilarious one.
But first, let’s back up.
In the post, Mazza first shares that after having kids, she suffered diastasis recti (otherwise known as muscle separation). Or in her words, “having kids separated my abdominal wall like Moses parting the Red Sea.” (You know, in case you needed a truly graphic visual on that one.)
Recently, Mazza’s doctor suggested she try yoga, so the mom of two finally mustered up the courage to take a local class. The only catch: She’d never done yoga before, so she was understandably nervous about it.
First things first: She had to look the part.
“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,” wrote Mazza. “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.”
Once she got there, though, Mazza says she felt just a wee bit out of place among all the experienced yogis.
“We got into the class and it was dark and there’s candles everywhere,” she continues. “(Just a slight fire risk you guys.) I’m thinking, holy sh*t this is real yoga, not like 5, 6, 7, 8 and stretccchh … this is ‘I’m 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.'”
Man, have I been there. I myself am Level 10 Awkward at just about everything I do — especially when it’s my first time doing it — and I’ve definitely wandered into a few fitness classes that were a notch or two above my comfort zone before. I do love me a good yoga class every now and again, but let’s just say I’m not exactly the Lululemon-wearing, OM-chanting kind of yogi — I’m more like a worn-out-Target-pants-wearing, let-me-put-my-mat-in-the-furthest-corner-of-the-room kind of yogi.
And it seems so is Mazza.
“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,” Mazza continues. “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.”
But that’s when things get even more awkward:
“Then [the] ashram yoga guru says loudly, ‘Oh we have a new member tonight. We are blessed with the company of … ??'” continues Mazza. “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.’
‘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.”
(Oof, what is it with teachers who insist upon doing wildly awkward intros or ice-breakers before class? They’re an introvert’s worst nightmare.)
“We started doing these random positions,” Mazza continues, “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.”
Oh yes — if you were starting to wonder where this story was going, this is where.
Mazza continues on to explain that for the past few weeks, she’d been experiencing what she calls IBS symptoms. And in case you wanted any further clarity on what that might mean exactly: “My farts stink like something mixed between a rotten egg and an incineration plant,” she explains.
And that’s when it happened …
“Somewhere between the dolphin position and the three legged dog, two of those burning garbage eggs slip out and I fart,” she says. “I farted. I farted at yoga. I’m a walking cliche. My pelvic floor has failed me.”
AHHHHHHHH! It was at this point in her story that I nearly died laughing, but also felt the deepest of sympathy. I mean, farting during yoga is way up there on my list of Top 10 Biggest Social Fears. My face was beet red with an embarrassment just thinking about it.
There was one saving grace, though — at least for the time being. According to Mazza, it was a quiet one.
“But then we move to some position where my heads between my legs, and the smell hits me like a punch to the nose,” she continues. “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.”
Mortified yet? Don’t worry, IT GETS WORSE.
“I gather my resolve and say you know what? Whatever. Everyone farts and I can’t help it,” Mazza writes. “I continue attempting the 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.”
But no. such. luck.
“She comes over … pushes my back down …
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.”
It’s at this point that Mazza does the only logical thing she knows how: She got the hell outta there.
“I got up, attempted to roll up my yoga mat but couldn’t do it, so I just kinda chucked it to the side,” she continued. “[Then I] grabbed my shoes and socks and my bag all in my arms and basically bolted out the door … now I’m sitting at McDonald’s eating a sundae crying and laughing. Sorry physio. I’m never ever ever EVER, doing yoga again. F*ck the muscle separation.”
Aaaaaaand END SCENE.
Speaking with Babble, Mazza admits that she’s still coming down from all the embarrassment, but that “writing about the good and bad times is definitely my therapy.”
Still, she did have some hesitations.
“When I started to see it getting a lot of interaction I thought, ‘Oh Lord I’m going to be known as the fart girl,'” says Mazza. But it turns out, when you share your fart stories with the Internet, you’re basically opening the flood gates to receiving a ton of others.
“A ton of people are sharing their fart stories and it’s actually made me feel so much better,” she says. “Another lady wrote that she is a yoga teacher and farting is just normal in yoga. I’m feeling a lot better about myself.”
See that? Maybe all the embarrassment was worth it, after all.
Please do yourself a favor and read the whole thing on Mazza’s page. From start to finish, it’s a non-stop laugh. (But good luck getting this story out of your head the next time you’re in a yoga class.)