IS THIS CRINGE? 😬

🎶 Look at me, look at me, I’m so good at yooOOooga! 🎵 Gabrielle Ruiz as intimidatingly hot yoga teacher Valencia Perez in the tv series Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Aaah, Gen Z. With their digital prowess and making-me-feel-old vibes, Generation Z has coined the term "cringe" as an expression of discomfort and secondhand embarrassment. In the vast landscape of online content, they've developed a keen sensitivity to moments that make them squirm. An awkward interaction, an outdated trend, even too much earnestness - “cringe” is now part of the cultural zeitgeist. But it's not just about pointing out the awkward à la Jerry Seinfeld; it's a way to navigate authenticity in a world saturated with curated online personas.

I’ve owned businesses before, when I was in my twenties (a gallery/rehearsal space and two vintage clothing stores), but those were the days of Friendster and MySpace. Social media as we know it didn't exist. Having a business during the early aughts meant operating free of the omnipresence of Instagram & Facebook. In 2024, posting on social media is a necessity for businesses - it’s an amazing tool to engage with the community, share updates, and foster connections. It’s amazing, but… it also kind of sucks. Sometimes it feels salesman-y or forced, like I’m trying too hard to put my best foot forward. It’s a lot like when I found myself single again in my mid-thirties - online dating had barely existed the previous time I was unattached, and suddenly I was swimming in a sea of men that I could swipe on based on their 🔥🔥🔥 level while sitting on the toilet. Like I said, amazing, but also kind of sucks.

Putting myself out into the online world is a bit daunting, especially when contending with the ever-looming specter of being deemed (or just feeling) cringe. As someone who tends to be more reserved, I've managed up until now to maintain a modicum of privacy in my digital footprint, mostly steering clear of oversharing. Posting my kids' photos is a peculiar dance - I do want to show off their adorable little faces, but questions around consent and their future reactions create a gurgly sense of unease in my gut. Will they like it? Will they be mad? Or will it not matter at all because everyone they know has thousands of pictures of them from birth onward circulating online? It's a riddle wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma, covered in pixels and filters.

Sharing less-than-perfect (but totally normal!) photos is hard too. The pressure to curate flawless, Insta-worthy images can overshadow a moment. I talk a big game about embracing the imperfect & showing the beauty of reality, but like most things, it’s easier said than done. We’re all our own worst critics.

Attending fitness classes sometimes feels equally cringey and vulnerable. The gym, with its hulking machines and beefcake bods, was never quite my thing. Boutique fitness classes can be just as intimidating - try relaxing in a room of perfect people in hundred dollar leggings. The struggle for mat placement and the fear of letting one loose in a silent moment are all too real. It’s embarrassing when you accidentally set your mat too close to someone else’s, or front and center when all you wanted was to be back and to the left. Or when you proudly check in to your tenth class only to have the teacher ask if you’ve ever tried yoga before. 🫣

Have you seen the clip "I'm So Good at Yoga" from the TV show Crazy Ex-Girlfriend?  If not, please go watch it right now (careful - it’s not entirely SFW!). It’s a satirical number set to a Bollywood tune about the performative aspects of yoga culture. In the scene, the protagonist Rebecca Bunch, played by the brilliant actor/writer Rachel Bloom, attends a yoga class only to find herself feeling woefully inadequate next to her gorgeous, inhumanly flexible teacher. The song highlights the contradictions and pretentiousness often associated with the wellness industry - why does something that’s supposed to make us feel good sometimes make us feel bad?

The song reflects the pressure people feel to project a certain image - the pressure to appear effortlessly composed, to flawlessly execute every pose or exercise, can create an atmosphere that feels more like a stage than a supportive space for personal growth. Taking time out of your day & paying good money to do something for yourself and then spending that time feeling anxious and self-conscious is THE WORST.

Rachel Bloom as Rebecca Bunch - her face says it all

I longed for a place that felt different, a spot that could double as a second home. Somewhere that appreciates the charm of a slightly askew yoga pose - where nobody judges when your downward dog looks like a deformed dinosaur. A place where your mat doesn't feel like a stage with a spotlight but like a comfortable spot just for you.

I wanted a studio that breaks down the exclusive walls that can surround wellness spaces. At The Pearl, our mission is to demolish those barriers and embrace authenticity. As much as possible, we’re about eliminating those awkward pre-class shuffles so that you can focus on yourself (in a good way!). Before the session begins, we’ll take care of laying out the mats so that everyone has a spot ready and waiting - no more finding the perfect space or worrying about being too close to someone else. (Of course, if you prefer to bring your own mat, you can always layer it on top). It's these kind of small touches that we think make a big difference, ensuring that from the moment you step into the studio, your focus can be entirely on your practice without any unnecessary fumbling. It's just one of the ways we're committed to creating a hassle-free and welcoming experience for our community.

While we can't eliminate every potentially awkward situation, we can foster an environment where being genuine is not only accepted but celebrated. Our goal is to create a safe and inclusive space where people feel comfortable, no matter their fitness or experience level. Let’s embrace imperfection in fitness classes. There's a solidarity in the shared moments of uncertainty and the floundering attempts at finding our Zen. To me, a big part of being happy is accepting reality, finding beauty in authenticity, and celebrating what makes us us.

As the owner of The Pearl, I’m doing my best to relish the challenge of putting myself out there, reminding myself that vulnerability leads to growth. In a world where curated perfection dominates, I’m trying to walk the line between being real and being cringey. I'm coming to realize the value of letting my guard down a bit - opening up more, sharing snippets of my journey, and inviting you to join me on this path. Because being true to oneself beats conforming to digital norms. The journey towards wellness is a personal one, let’s celebrate every authentic step, online and off, without the fear of being labeled "cringe." We’re all human here - may the collective dread of an accidental fart unite us all!