Turn Ons: Restorative Antigravity Yoga feels like yoga made for kids, but hard enough for adults. The aerial hammock is part swing, part jungle gym and part fort which brings out your playful inner-child. But the asanas, breathwork and meditation definitely challenge the stressed bodies and minds of adults.
Turn Offs:There was no forewarning about the embarrassing possibility of losing control of one's bodily functions.
Rate My Date:
- Not My Type
- 1 Night Stand
- Happily Ever After
It was like reverting back into the womb. Every movement was supported by breath and the cocoon-like embrace of the aerial yoga hammock which allowed for total surrender. I was seduced into relaxation; one of life's pleasures that I tend to neglect. Every "asana" compassionately challenged my struggle to be fully present in the moment, breathe deeply and give my mind a break from solving the world's problems. But, with the support of the hammock, my muscles were coerced into relaxation, promising greater ease and freedom of movement. The hypnotic voice of Shelly Bomb, developer and Master Instructor of Restorative Antigravity Yoga, methodically guided us through every manipulation of the hammock so that it would safely and comfortably cradle our bodies and facilitate further stretching, lengthening and relaxation. Add to that, the new-age music that played softly in the background and assisted in transporting our bodies, minds and spirits into a different realm... far away from the Hell's Kitchen location of Om Factory.
Even when fully inverted I felt safe to simply hang, relax, breathe and empty my mind of stress and judgement. Tension spiraled its way out of my body as my spine elongated from the gentle traction. I could've remained upside-down forever but we were instructed to rock ourselves back into a seated position. And that's when it happened. I queefed! Yes, as soon as I returned upright...I QUEEFED! Needless to say, I was absolutely mortified as audible noises gurgled their way out of my you know what. I didn't even blink. I maintained (feigned) my relaxed and blissed out expression while nervously eyeballing the class to see who might've heard my pu**y fart. And, while trying to ascertain their silent judgement of the new girl who obviously didn't know 'how much, was too much' relaxation? I squeezed, clenched and gripped every intrinsic muscle of my nether regions desperately trying to sustain the kegel of life. It was an intense battle against my own body to avoid further betrayal and public shame. Every inversion felt like a daring game of concentration to avoid becoming a repeat offender during the remaining forty-five minutes.
Forty-five minutes passed and I successfully made it to "savasana" pose after an exhausting workout of my pelvic floor. There, within the cozy confines of my own little cocoon suspended from the ceiling, I got to float on my back and de-stress from all the embarrassment. I heard soft snores pass through the sheer walls of adjacent cocoons. No one was thinking about the new girl that queefs. Like me, everyone else had found their own state of zen.
265 West 37th Street @ Eighth Ave, 18th floor
Getting There By Subway:
- A, C, E to 34th Street - Penn Station at 8th Avenue
- 1, 2, 3 to 34th Street - Penn Station at 7th Avenue