Dear Los Angeles Yogis,
Hello, my friends. Guess what? You win! You guys are Reason #72 that I love L.A.! But, don’t get too excited. There’s no everlasting Prana or lifetime supply of kombucha to go along with this prize, just the knowledge that you inspire me and that I love you. Get stoked! Chant something!
I love you because a Los Angeles yoga class is like a fashion show for Lululemon. I love you because everyone spends the ten minutes before class either complaining about parking or complimenting each other’s aforementioned Lululemon. I love that I secretly make fun of all of you while wearing Lululemon!
One of the very best things is how everyone collectively judges the girl who rolls up to class in an S.U.V. How fun for the rest of us to know we’re superior to her and her gas-guzzler! Totally worth the $16 class fee! Oooh, or when we all gasp as the lady three mats over describes how yummy her chicken taco was last night. Meat! Ugh! Kick her out! String her up by her $140 pants! I also think it’s great how we all pretend to ignore any celebrity who happens to be practicing with us that day. We don’t even notice! We are way too focused on our sun salutes! We are above that shit! We are yogis, hear us ohm!
I also really dig the unsolicited advice! I didn’t come to yoga today to clear my mind and exercise my body; I came to hear what you think of my hair! I don’t care about my handstand; let’s talk about henna rinse, bitches! I’m only here for the talk about how Whole Foods has gotten too mainstream or how women in Febreze commercials aren’t even doing Downward Facing Dog right!
I’m here to hear about your sciatica! TELL ME EVERYTHING!
Thank you, fellow yogis, for making every day a Zen experience. How could it not be with snoring guy and grunting woman enhancing my vibe? I love you all. Yes, even you, unnaturally skinny girl who does backbends before class. I love you too. I’d hug you but I’m afraid I’d break you in half.
(Orange mat, concert tee, Reversible Groove pants.)