My head was bending toward my knee when I glanced down toward my yoga mat and noticed an unfortunate, growing patch of sweat on my shorts.
New yoga shorts. Never worn before. They're medium gray. My sweat is turning them dark gray. All around my...
And I'm in the front row of a class at the Yoga Pod.
It looks like I peed in my yoga shorts.
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about mirrors in yoga studios: how they let you examine your imperfections, how I've let go of that a little, how I noticed mid-class one day that the black shirt I'd been wearing earlier had left black fuzzies in the creases of my armpits.
That day, it hit me that everyone else was looking at themselves in the mirror and not me. So no worries, I could keep raising my arms overhead -- no one's going to think I have an aggressive five o'clock pit shadow.
But this patch of sweat was spreading from splotches into a triangle, and I was stretching into triangle pose, and dear Buddha, this was a noticeable triangle.
In the front row.
Between cursing the fabric failure causing the, er, disruption in my lower chakras, I cursed myself for not testing the shorts at home first. I knew better. Once I'd smartly sported my lululemon shorts for a home practice before wearing them to class and was glad I did. Those shorts crept. Up and up. And let's just say that those shorts don't leave the house. (Though my husband likes them.)
Gazing past my fingertips in Warrior II, I moved past the cursing and contemplated my options. I had none. I wasn't going to pick up my mat and move to the back. I wasn't going to leave class. I wasn't going to stop sweating (though knowing this, it did occur to me that maybe if I wiped sweat from my cleavage onto the outer legs of my shorts, I could balance out the sweaty dark-gray).
My only option was to keep going and quit worrying.
I wish I could say I completely stopped worrying about it. I let go a little.
But mostly, I feel lucky that I didn't think about what kinds of patches of sweat were forming on my backside until later.