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Like many ladies, I’ve had a contentious relationship with my body for many of my life. It has never looked the best way I’ve wanted, which is to say, the best way I assumed it was “supposed” to look. I’ve at all times been short and curvy, and I’ve grown exceedingly fleshier with age.

But, at 46, I’ve actually never been more accepting of my body. Due to the body positive movement—including greater shapes in such high-profile talents including Lizzo and, until recently, Adele—my very own internalized fat phobia has lessened tremendously. But in case you’d told me I used to be going to take a nude yoga class, I’d have laughed in your face. Because, frankly, stripping down for group practice appears like the alternative of relaxing.

Still, when my editor inquired whether I’d be eager about trying a nude yoga class and writing about my experience, I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy. (As a G cup, there’s no way I can jump comfortably with no bra, in any case.)

Could nude yoga feel…empowering?

First things first: Finding a nude yoga class. Based on Google, “nude yoga” has been seeing a rapid increase in popularity. But there aren’t any classes yet in my town of Boulder. It appeared that I used to be gonna should drive to the massive city to get naked for journalism.

I discovered a female-only nude yoga class on the independently owned and operated Urban Sanctuary studio in Denver. “Skins Yoga is a robust class that supports the shedding of what doesn’t serve oneself, regardless of what form it might are available in,” in keeping with the web site description. “Space is held for ladies to decorate all the way down to their comfort level to see what involves the surface to be healed with no judgment.” Okay, that doesn’t sound too weird.

The truth is, it sounded freeing.

Finding strength in numbers

I show as much as class about quarter-hour early with my adventurous friend and fellow yoga teacher, Bria. The studio, situated within the historic Little Five Points neighborhood, has exposed brick partitions, well-loved vintage furniture, and nooks teeming with houseplants that lend it an inviting, homey vibe.

We’re invited to assist ourselves to herbal tea and choose mats for ourselves from those arranged in two rows facing one another in the middle of the studio. Bria and I unroll our own mats, side by side, on top of the studio mats and sit down, fully clothed. I’m wearing a loose t-shirt, sports bra, leggings, and underwear.

Before long, there are 10 of us. Bria and I are by far the oldest women in attendance. The opposite students seem like mostly Gen Zs together with a number of scattered Millennials.

Frankly, I’m relieved in regards to the younger crowd. I feel absolutely no need to match myself with a body that’s 15 to twenty years younger than my very own. I’m also pleased to see a wide range of body sizes and styles within the room.

Before we start, our teacher Soly Culpepper assures us that we will strip down as little or as much as we wish during class, and that she would cue us at different points in the course of the practice to remove an item of clothing if we desired. This, too, is a relief. Being quite busty, I find the concept of doing any type of inverted yoga pose with no bra not only awkward but potentially fatal. I already feel like I’m going to suffocate after I do Halasana (Plow Pose) fully clothed. (Is it just me or do big boobs and yoga go together like mayonnaise and ice cream?)

The ten of us start class sitting in Sukhasana (Easy Pose) and taking turns introducing ourselves and listing our pronouns, which helped me feel much more relaxed. Culpepper also invites us to call something that we’re able to release. I’m undecided what I would like to say. But, when it’s my turn, out tumble the words “I’m letting go of the load of others’ expectations.”

Culpepper then walks across the room with a deck of oracle cards, inviting each of us to pick out one at random. Mine reads, “Boundaries are a type of self-care.” This is completely spot on for the week I used to be having. The cardboard also serves as a reminder that I’m in control of my experience on this nude yoga class. I’m here to do only what I’m comfortable with.

Finally, Culpeper hands out scraps of paper and asks us to journal in response to the prompt “It’s okay…” I quickly begin to scribble. “It’s okay to be fatter and older than I’ve ever been before. It’s okay to be single at age 46. It’s okay to be lonely sometimes.” It’s some of the healing entries I’ve written in months, which makes me wish to take this prompt into my regular journaling practice.

Baring (not quite) all of it

The yoga portion of sophistication consists of mostly close-to-the-ground hatha yoga poses like Child’s Pose, Seated Forward Bend, and Half Pigeon. Thankfully, no vigorous flows here. Culpepper suggests that we do the category with our eyes closed in an effort to have the option to feel into our physical sensations.

About 10 minutes into the sequence, she invites us to remove a bit of clothing. I take off my shirt. This may not be a giant deal for many individuals, however it’s the primary time I’ve ever stripped all the way down to just my bra in yoga class. I’m very sensitive about my belly rolls, but I feel the liberty of being unencumbered by extra fabric around my midsection—the protection used to cover the “fat” parts of my body that I don’t like.

After one other 10 minutes of slow flow, including poses like Cat/Cow, Child’s Pose, and Down Dog—Culpepper invites us to remove one other piece of clothing. I shed my leggings and am all the way down to my black boyshorts and sports bra. At this point, many ladies are topless, including our teacher.

I can feel the nice and cozy air circulating across the back of my knees, thighs, and armpits. I feel natural and free, which helps me connect with the yoga experience in a recent and barely more vulnerable way. Possibly there’s something to this nude yoga thing.

After a number of spinal twists, our teacher asks us to return to Sukhasana and suggests we remove one other piece of clothing if we wish. I take off my bra. A few of us are completely naked at this point, and she or he tells us we will place a blanket over our laps if we like. As we place one hand over our heart and the opposite on our belly, I feel a recent tenderness for my rolls as they gently undulate with each breath.

Finally, it’s time for Savasana. I’m not gonna lie: Topless Savasana is pretty great. I cover my bottom half with a blanket for warmth and deeply chill out into the ground as a peaceful song by Beautiful Chorus plays within the background. I luxuriate in simply being in my body. I feel gratitude for all it does for me.

After a while passes, Culpepper invites us to hum along. As we join our voices, I feel a way of community with these women. I’m so inspired by how open and free they’re at such a young age.

When the category draws to an end 90 minutes after I tentatively sat down not knowing what to anticipate, I feel completely yoga stoned and completely happy. I find myself pondering that I can’t wait to do it again.

Working through old ways of being

Afterward, I talked to Culpepper and Ali Duncan, the owner of Urban Sanctuary. Duncan began hosting nude yoga classes in 2019. “Through the Skins classes, we hope to present students a chance to embrace themselves,” says Duncan. “This experience allows the coed to work through several types of self-loathing and embarrassing thoughts that will come up. As a rustic, we now have a lot shame across the human body.”

Culpepper agrees. “For me, as a survivor of sexual assault, it’s a practice in only letting yourself be seen and realizing that there’s nothing shameful about your naked body,” she said. “I’ve at all times been about empowering other women, and this class is the epitome of that. We show up for one another, and just let ourselves be–and breathe.”

I consider whether the consequences of a nude yoga practice might be cumulative: The more you strip down, the more you may begin to lean into acceptance of yourself.

I find myself pondering again in regards to the young women in school. Let’s face it, at my age, I couldn’t care less about what others think. Nevertheless it has taken me years to return to this newfound comfort with my chub. They’re many years ahead of me when it comes to body acceptance, and their easy comfort in their very own skins makes me longing for their futures. Because in my experience, if you don’t truly accept who you’re, you normally accept lower than you deserve from others.

About our contributor

Jennifer Davis-Flynn is a author and yoga teacher based in Boulder, Colorado. Follow her on Instagram @jennifurious.