Naked.

E: “So, when’s the last time you stripped down to nothing in a room full of strangers?”

ME: …. uh, never?!

I was sitting in Starbucks and it had finally clicked. I mean, E had brought up naked yoga in conversation over a month ago, but I had already inhaled two glasses of wine when I agreed to join her. And now, I was completely sober and class started in half an hour. At this point, I knew I had to go. I really didn’t want to, but I knew there was no way E was going to let me bail without a fight.

And so I went.

Fully dressed with my yoga mat tucked under my arm, I slid open the door of the studio and was welcomed by five middle-aged men scattered across the room, sitting comfortably on their mats sans clothes. They acknowledged my entrance and turned back towards each other, continuing casual conversation about their day and such – naked. No big deal, right? Riiight.

I followed E into the room and she wandered to the front of the class.

The FRONT of the class… WAIT. No. What?!

I mean, I was free to squeeze myself into tight quarters closer to the back, but I needed (wanted) E around for mental support. And so I slowly set up my mat next to hers in the front row and quietly sat down, still in my clothes. I stayed in my clothes, watching everyone else walk into the room and casually shimmy out of their pants, shirts, socks and underwear like it was perfectly normal to do so in front of a group of random people. Eventually, E and I were the only one still wearing clothes.

I looked at E, and she smiled back at me as she slid out of her yoga pants. It was now or never.

And if everyone else was so willing to do get naked, why wasn’t I? What was I so scared of?

I took a deep breath and smiled back at E, then awkwardly undressed down to my skin and focused on finding my zen.

Turns out, naked yoga is just regular yoga without clothes. I’ll fully admit that being in the buff while sharing close space with strangers is a little odd, and downward dogging can be a little uncomfortable at first go – but the truth is that no one cares. There were moments when I’d hold a pose and open my eyes to do a scan of the room. I was curious if anyone was judging me, watching me, picking apart my body the same way I usually do. But no, everyone was focused on their practice and at quick glance, I was the only who had lost focus. Everyone there was present to practice yoga and chill the f*ck out. I decided to do the same, finally. It’s not easy at first, but eventually you learn to stop focusing on the fact that you’re naked, and realize that you’re just stretching and taking care of your body – just like you wanted to; just like everyone else in the room.

Naked yoga threw me way out of my comfort zone. Even though I felt uneasy on the outside, I spent 70 minutes doing my best to find inner peace and can honestly say that I’ve never felt so in tune with myself and my body. With class coming to an end, I lay on my mat and embraced the entire experience: sharing a room with open, honest, unarmed human beings; raw and real. We had embraced vulnerability and more importantly, ourselves – just as we are. Wrinkles, curves, imperfections of every kind – we were still beautiful and at peace in our practice that night. Together.

It was liberating, it was full of love, and definitely one of the best yoga classes I’ve ever done.

The next week, I planted my mat at the front of the room again. Naked yoga with strangers is now one of my favourite ways to spend Sunday evenings.