That naked yogi – a clothes free yogi we think you should know

As an athlete I always had a muscular, solid frame, something that I resented as I compared myself to my rail-thin high school besties. Yes, I was strong and powerful, but that meant nothing to me when all I could think about were my legs rubbing together every time I took a step. In my eyes, my worth was directly correlated to the number on the scale, the number on the tag of my jeans, and the (fewest) number of calories I could consume in a day.

Needless to say, I felt like shit about myself and as a result, I overcompensated in just about every other area of life: I had to get perfect grades. My hair and skin needed to be on-point at all times. I wouldn’t show emotion or weakness at any cost. And I sure as hell wouldn’t show my body to anyone.

I felt incredible shame on a daily basis, and it was all connected to how I felt about my body.

For years I abused my body, berating it with judgmental thoughts, harming it through dangerous binge and purge episodes, and not fueling it with the love and nourishment it deserved. My body was indeed my greatest enemy, and it would not be until a decade later that I would start to discover the beauty and magnificence of my physical vessel.

My journey to healing my relationship with my body took a turn the first time I visited India in 2017. At the time I was going through a divorce and was in the midst of a quarter-life crisis. The life that I had created for myself was simply not working, as I had begun making very serious decisions without ever knowing who I really was. Around 29 years old, everything came crashing down and I was left picking up the scattered pieces with no other option but to completely reinvent myself.

It was during that month in India, alone in a foreign country, that I started to appreciate the strength that was inside of me. In a yoga teacher training of 30 students from around the world, my body was tested to its limits. I remained healthy, despite illnesses that ran rampant amongst our group. It was the most grueling experience of my entire life — physically, mentally, and emotionally — and my body allowed me to keep going.

I had a newfound appreciation for this “meat sack”, and it felt really damn good.

Fast forward a few years, and I received another opportunity to transmute any lingering body shame into a full-blown love affair with myself: I was given the chance to be drawn by a professional artist. Fully nude.

I didn’t even have to think about it. The answer was yes, a million times yes. I had never done anything like that before, nothing so risqué or taboo as taking my clothes off for someone else’s benefit.

But I soon had the realization that this wasn’t about anyone else or their benefit, it was about mine. The first time I took my clothes off and posed nude, something came alive in me. I felt free, I felt beautiful, I felt like me.

Over the course of a year, I modeled on a weekly basis, and week after week the layers slowly peeled back and I came to know myself in a way I never had before. The shameful, unconfident girl I had always been was morphing into a confident, poised, self-loving woman right before my eyes.

And a naked one at that.

Becoming a figure model changed my life in ways I never could have imagined, and it healed parts of me I didn’t even know needed healing. I now view my body as a tool, a way to feel and to love and to express. My body is a work of art, and not just because an artist says so.

Because I know so.

It has always been that way, but now I see it for what it is. My body is a vision, a masterpiece, and I now have this desire to help as many people as possible realize this fact for themselves. I have since started teaching nude yoga — and sharing this gift with the world is one of my life purposes, I just know it.

Now whenever I question my worth, I get naked.

And I promise if you do the same, you will change your life.

If you are interested in learning more about nude yoga, supporting my cause, or would like to collaborate, please visit beacons.page/thatnakedyogi.