Breathe in, breathe out. Uh, more like breathe in, get me the heck out of this yoga class. Don’t get me wrong, yoga on your lonesome is exquisite. Stretching and breathing a bunch grants you unwavering digestive regularity, coital prowess, and it melts that milky glaucoma cataract right off your third eye. But a yoga class with other yogis? I may as well chug a vial of liquid adrenalin, shoot my veins up with cortisol, and dry swallow some speed.

I’m a yogi myself, albeit, a highly inflexible and emotionally unsound one, but yes, I do yoga. Yogis, you’ve probably seen burlap pamphlets for these yoga sessions at your local vegan juice bar, shaman acupuncturist’s office, or in the lobby of the Learning Annex where you take your Rumi poetry class. But don’t be fooled! These yoga classes are stressful as all hell, and you’d be better off Nama-stay-ing at home. Here they are.

10. Full Moon Hatha With a Witch’s Coven

Every full moon, the famed Witches Coven, Thiccan Thighs in upstate New York, opens their creepy pagan yoga class to the public. These sexually fluid, hook nosed wenches go mat-less in a dirt field while their coven manager, Anthony, an asexual dwarf, plays tambourine and triangle in a nearby raspberry bush. During final savasana, the head bruja, Janice, rubs every student down with a honeysuckle salve said to bring long-lasting tranquility. Tranquil, my ass! Get those warty witch fingers off me! Try relaxing in a bridge pose when you’re surrouded by satan worshipping nymphomaniacs. I will NOT be going back.

8. Private Chakra- Opening Session With Declan the Supermodel

Oh Declan, you’re so ripped, even your flaccid yogi penis has a six pack. You’ll walk into this private session thinking, sure, I’ll pay $150 for a retired Abercrombie underwear model to privately reawaken my throat and loin chakras. You’ll walk out thinking, did I just throw down cash for a male prostitute? So confusing and stressful!

7. Hot Vinyasa at a New Jersey Rec Center

I’m really not trying to downward face my dog in a puddle of freelance (unemployed) Jersey dad sweat. God, these rec center yoga mats smell like a grandpa’s catheter. Dave, the instructor, is wearing a valor track suit and sipping on a 7–Eleven slurpee. What is this place? A.A. headquarters? An orphanage? An abandoned fall out shelter? God, one of the dad’s farted, and it smells like Ronald McDonald’s ass. I really can’t do this!

9. Beginner’s Yoga with Jackie at a Best Western

Jackie, a 68 year old widow with a weirdly bangable physique, has been offering daily 7 am yoga at the Best Western off the Connecticut Interstate ever since her beloved Henry got tragically run over by a golf cart. Who cares that she exclusively teaches disillusioned 30- something traveling salesmen? If you’re her sole male student, you can kiss your peaceful child’s pose goodbye, and get ready to get massaged and propositioned for cougar sex. Jackie, your nipple hugging tie dye sports bra is cute, but your class is stressing all the Best Western guests the eff out. No thanks.

6. Yoga in the Forest, Taught by Aggressive Centaur

Sure, who wouldn’t want to unleash the fire in your spine with a yoga certified half -man, half- horse? But watch out, Jake the Centaur’s class is no joke. He will shamelessly gallop around you while in headstand, and try to kick you down with his hoof while you’re in tree pose. No thanks, you hard ass hybrid!

5. Couple’s Honeymoon Tantric

Forgive me if I don’t want to watch other couples exchange genital energy on bodily fluid covered jade mats. Plus, I think it’s pretty clear that ponytailed, puca- shell wearing, divorcee instructor Martin is only teaching this class in the hopes that he’ll have a threesome at some point. Oof! Look at that woman stroking her new hubby’s pelvic bone while he struggles through warrior three. I am fully turned off and fully stressed out. Do NOT attend.

4. Yoga/ Acting for Beginners

If your acting class wasn’t culty enough, this’ll do the trick. Get ready to deliver a mediocre Tennessee Williams monologue while you shiver in mountain pose. If you can’t recite Sonnet 55 while you cry in turtle shell, well, you fail, and won’t be able to perform in the sun salutation Shakespearean showcase. Too. much. pressure.

3. Intermediate Yoga for Your Teething Baby

That’s right, baby yoga is a thing. In this class, you can stretch out your baby while they chew on plastic yoga blocks and toy tibetan singing bowls. It’s all fine until one of the babies does a flawless happy baby pose in the class, and makes all the other babies feel bad. You’ll be so stressed that you and your baby will be crying and viciously chewing on the strings of a yogi wool blanket. Nobody needs that kind of stress. Nobody.

2. Nudist Beach Sunset Yoga

If I wasn’t insecure enough about my body, now I’m forced to sweat and pant through my flow in the nude, surrouded by shredded, strong vegans. I don’t need to witness personal trainers master lotus position in their birthday suits while I lie in savasana, looking like an open autopsy. Jeez. When is the sun going to go down so I can get the eff off this beach?

1. Bikram, Anywhere, Anytime.

No, just please, never again. Mirrors. Sweat. Death. Just. No.

There you have it. The top ten most stressful yoga classes. Mark my words yogis, all ten of these classes will violently corrupt your mind, body, and spirit. So please, do yourself a favor and find your inner peace in the comfort of your own home. Enjoy your day yogis! Happy solitary stretching!