Dear sexy man from yoga,
Walking in wearing yoga pants, my hair in a top knot, sipping on Spark and makeup-less, I can say without a doubt I wasn’t expecting … that.
But, however disheveled I looked, you looked divine. Unrolling your mat with such ease and entering each posture with grace.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve come a long way in yoga. I’m able to balance on one leg, maintain ‘crow pose’ and hold a deep lunge for long counts of 8 (thank you, spin). However, it is safe to say, I’m no long-legged Gisele.
While I admittedly have a challenging time maintaining a clear mind during my practice, you sexy man, were almost like focal point for me. I was able to keep stressful thoughts about work and life outside of my brain for 60-minutes.
So thank you.
I may never see you again, and undoubtedly will never speak to you — as I don’t really go to yoga to be social, it is my personal escape.
But if I do see you downward dogging on the mat next to mine, I will simply smile and know that on a random Tuesday in February you helped me hold my yogi attention.
And for that, I thank you.