Gwyneth Paltrow Wants You To Yawn Like There’s No Tomorrow

“But, Gwyneth, won’t the poor know I’m sleepy and see it as weakness?”
“Then we’ll burn them, European Colonel Sanders. Burn them all…”

With Jessica Alba, Blake Lively, Reese Witherspoon, and now Lena Dunham – WHO’S JUST LIKE JOSH DUGGAR YOU CONFEDERATE FLAG HATIN’ LIBTARD SHEEPS!!!! *pops blood vessel all over Cracker Barrel dinner* – entering the lifestyle website racket, it behooves Gwyneth Paltrow to distinguish herself as the head of the pack, and what better way to do that than to write a blog post about yawning? The body’s natural way of saying, “I am so fucking bored right now I want to be the closet thing there is to death.” Via GOOP:

The other night at a dinner with Michael Lear, a wonderful yogi and important quarterback for mindfulness and meditation in this country, he caught, out of the corner of his very alert eye, the suppression of a yawn. (It was late.) “Please yawn,” he explained. “Really give into it, as it’s the body’s primary way to release and stretch the jaw and neck muscles after a long day of work and conversation.” And then, since yawning is contagious, there was a good 30-60 second stretch of yawning back and forth. “There’s a perception that it’s rude or that it means that you’re bored, but the reality is that it’s a very important mechanism for releasing stress. It feels good for a reason: Trust that your body knows how to calibrate itself.”

And so it was that day that the bourgeois class finally found a way to rationalize our disdain for each others’ company: “Yawning is good,” we told ourselves. “It’s not rude nor a sign that wealth and decadence have turned us into boring imitations of human life, dead and hollow inside with no regard with the experiences of others for all of us are repeating the same actions over and over again: Kale, yoga, vaginal steaming, more kale, discreet defecation into a steel decanter, repeat.” What could we possibly have to say that held any meaning or purpose? And so we yawned. We yawned until the sun rose, and we yawned until the sun set. For our boredom was but a people suit, and we wore it like a handwoven scarf wrapped tightly around our necks in the hopes it might finally take us into the next world so we could be the first to rape its artisanal plunders. [Edit: Reap? Did I mean reap?] Now, who wants to buy this $18,000 cheese menagerie? It’s the perfect conversation piece for your next yawn soiree. (We call them yawn soirees now. Do keep up.) – GP

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