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Huffington Post Writer Lampoons Whole Foods’ ‘Namaste’ Culture, Hot Yoga

in YD News

namaste-trucker-hatReminiscent of the “Whole Foods Rap” we had to share what’s been spreading around the interwebs like sugar-fed culture strands through Kombucha. Huffington Post contributor, humorist Kelly MacLean wrote a tantalizing and hilarious post calling out the idiosyncratic ridiculousness of the Whole Foods lifestyle and shopping experience, which, if you’re used to referencing “whole paycheck” you should get a kick out of. In it she describes the passive aggressive greenies and gluten-free crusaders who cut you off in the parking lot or share unsolicited advice about your gastrointestinal-ruining eating habits all with a smile and a “namaste.”

Of course, yoga is inherently intertwined with the organic, wheat-free, soy-free, sugar-free, dollar-free (just let them go!) culture at Whole Foods – many locations regularly host yoga classes right in the store. One of our favorite parts of the piece:

Candida is what I call a rich, white person problem. You know you’ve really made it in this world when you get Candida. My personal theory is that Candida is something you get from too much hot yoga. All I’m saying is if I were a yeast, I would want to live in your yoga pants.

The condescending, yet helpful salesperson:

I move on to the next isle and ask the nearest Whole Foods clerk for help. He’s wearing a visor inside and as if that weren’t douchey enough, it has one word on it in all caps. Yup, NAMASTE. I ask him where I can find whole wheat bread. He chuckles at me “Oh, we keep the poison in aisle 7.” Based solely on the attitudes of people sporting namaste paraphernalia today, I’d think it was Sanskrit for “go fuck yourself.”

Also, this part about the trendy cleansing that so many yogis are obsessed with:

I pass the table where the guy invites me to join a group cleanse he’s leading. For $179.99 I can not-eat not-alone… not-gonna-happen. They’re doing the cleanse where you consume nothing but lemon juice, cayenne pepper and fiber pills for 10 days, what’s that one called again? Oh, yeah…anorexia. I went on a cleanse once; it was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, I detoxified, I purified, I lost weight. On the other hand, I fell asleep on the highway, fantasized about eating a pigeon, and crapped my pants. I think I’ll stick with the whole eating thing.

To tell the truth we love the spread of yoga infiltrating people’s lives beyond the mat, but good grief is it infuriating to be confronted by a big ‘ol NAMASTE, when it feels equivalent to judgmental uber religious folks saying “God bless you” when you know they really mean “Oh dear, you are surely going to hell, you sin-loving evildoer.” No offense. Bless their hearts.

Honestly, we love a good, healthy reality skewer, especially if it’s funny, and 100% grass fed. This isn’t the first time MacLean lampooned the yogi/wellness lifestyle. She took on hot yoga in another piece this past summer called “Cruel and Unusual Punishment: Hot Yoga” where she recounts the typical it’s-so-hot-I-wanna-die and the “torture chamber fart cloud” she endured along with the steamy hot temps. It’s nothing too surprising coming from a comedian making fun of a culture she’s truly just visitor of (or is secretly a part of and doesn’t want to admit it!?). Either way it’s an entertaining and funny romp through 100+ degrees, see-through pants and creepy farting dudes in short shorts.

My teacher introduces herself as Yoga Bandana, or at least thats what it sounds like to me. We begin class by setting an intention, she suggests ‘Gratitude’ but i’ve done hot yoga before so my intention is ‘To Not Die.’ We start out in downward dog which is where you discover that you have unusually tight shoulders and see-through pants. An upside-down glance toward the mirror informs me that wearing khaki spandex without underwear was unwise because when I bend over you can definitely see my butt. Also, several pubes have worked their way out of the front of my spandex like the first blades of grass through frosty March soil. My hopes that no one has noticed my pants problem deflate when I see that the guy behind me is staring at my ass. This guy is about fifty years old and his hair is as long as his shorts are short. No shirt. Does he not realize I can see him in the front mirror?

Ah, the mirror. Metaphorically, that’s the real art of comedy and yoga, now isn’t it? We can all have a laugh at that.

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6 comments… add one

  • MB
  • Semper Fi

    I’d like to thank all of you who contribute to this stereotype.

  • Vision_Quest2

    This MacLean author seems to write this latest Huffington Post piece in the same vein as Recovering Yogi writes about all of commercialized yoga … when you’ve got no choice but to avoid 99% of commercialized yoga you can’t be all aboveitall until the next Wanderlust or retreat to Bali …

  • Vision_Quest2

    As an example of what I mean, is a reply on Huffington Post in the comments (by canucksam) – however it’s sliced:

    “Yes, you can be poor and have allergies, dietary restrictions, illnesses. You be poor and have diabetes, or celiac, or peanut allergies. You can also have a blog and be incredibly ill-informed. Go figure.”

  • peanut

    you say, “Either way it’s an entertaining and funny romp through 100+ degrees, see-through pants and creepy farting dudes in short shorts.”

    How do I know it wasn’t YOU farting? How come it’s only the dudes that fart in yoga class? In fact, I know a number of chicks who also fart. Yet, they don’t get exposed and ridiculed publicly for it (as you are doing here to the farting dude). I feel this fart commentary is discriminatory, YD, and distinctly non yogic. Please give equal exposure to farting chicks…

  • Mia

    Could I just say that using greater age as a signifier for creepiness and repulsiveness is more offensive than a fart?

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