As his leg flies up into the air, his sweaty, hairy balls fall into my view. He wore running shorts instead of the appropriate, tight fitting yoga attire. This is the reason yogi's wear spandex! Nobody needs to see sweaty, foreign balls in their face while trying to find yogi inner peace. I tried not to look, but how could I not? I noticed the lady next to me focus on the balls as well. She nodded to me with a look of sympathy. Was this really happening? Yes. Onto the next pose.
And there again, sweaty balls in my line of vision. There is no way I can concentrate on a pose viewing genitalia. I stand still, awaiting the next pose as I hear the instructor call my name.
"What are you doing just hanging out? Get back in the pose!"I wanted to motion her over so she could see exactly what the problem was. Instead I attempted to get back in the pose again. This time, my body starts to shake. My laughter takes over my body. The harder I try to hold it in, the more my body shakes. My laugh is not soft and feminine. When I laugh, conversations stop. It is a loud, sometimes shocking type of howling noise. I walk out class, not finishing with visions of sweaty, hairy balls haunting my thoughts. The more I try to black them out, the more I see them. Please consider others when dressing for yoga.