By: Megan Cramer
“I went to the Pink concert last night,” the tanned and trim yoga instructor said, while cheerily setting up his mat in the front of the brick-walled room. “My ears are still ringing.” Perhaps he thought he was impressing the room full of middle-aged women with his youthful lifestyle and pop music knowledge. Perhaps it was this ringing in his ears that made him oblivious to the copious sensual moanings and “mmms” that would emanate from his vocal chords throughout the entire class while deep in stretches, making me wonder if I was unknowingly cast in a softcore porn yoga scene.
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