For one devout group of LDS church-goers, social nudism is not only good for the soul, but scripturally-backed.
It’s a Sunday night at a Millcreek yoga studio. In the parking lot, participants curtly nod at one another as they hurry inside to the invitation-only class. Some stare straight ahead—or look at the ground, avoiding eye contact.
Once inside the classroom, however, the secretive mood changes as they remove their clothes—all of their clothes. And among the shirts, skirts, trousers and Jockey shorts are snowy white sets of garments—the sacred underwear worn by devout members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. That’s right: A good portion of this all-nude yoga class is temple-recommend-carrying Mormons—and, what’s more, they claim scripture endorses the practice.
Before the session begins, many stand up and begin milling around the studio, baring their bodies—some large and saggy, some tight and fit—without shame. The 20 or so people in attendance are split between female and male, ranging from older, single men to young attractive couples.
I’d heard about the class on a Facebook group called Wasatch Naturists, which a friend told me about during a conversation on skinny dipping. I contacted the class leader and told him the idea of communal, non-sexual nudity fascinated me and that I wanted to write a story on it. After a few messages, he agreed to allow me into their inner sanctum with one caveat: I’d have to be nude as well.
In truth, I was apprehensive. I didn’t like the idea of standing naked in a roomful of strangers.
When I told my girlfriend, she was shocked and humored. She laughed at the idea of doing yoga poses naked for all to see, but also said the freeing nature of social nudity was somewhat appealing. After some convincing, she agreed to tag along.
After we arrived at the studio, our IDs and backgrounds were checked. The latter consisted of a basic Google search and a more prying sex offender registry search. Once cleared, it was time for the moment of truth. I was anxious and could hear my heart beating. The idea of a roomful of strangers focusing on my nether regions during full downward-facing “dog” pose seemed daunting. Still, there was no turning back. We set up our mats. I looked at my girlfriend, smiled awkwardly and disrobed.
Source: Salt Lake City Weekly
Original publication 11 December, 2019
Posted on NatCorn 5th January 2020
Reference to an article does not infer endorsement of any views expressed.