Dear Hot Yoga,

Do you remember our first time together?

When the room was sweltering and the people were all in varying stages of nakedness and I had no earthly idea what the hell I was doing? When my plan was to just do whatever the guy in front of me was doing but his tiny little shorts made it so I couldn’t look directly at him without worrying that I was going to end up staring at his junk? When my infantile giggling led to dirty looks from everyone else in the room – because fuck me for blocking their chi? Fine with me, weirdos – If you want to shun me out of your super-special yoga, that’s awesome, because frankly, I never planned on returning.

I know we got off to a bad start – with me hating you and everything. But I am writing to you today, ten years later, with my hands at heart center, to humbly beg your forgiveness.

You teased me with a free week at Core Power (the new Starbucks of yoga studios…) and enticed me with your myriad promises. Did I want to sweat it out? Oh yes! Did I want to get fit? You bet! Did I want to wear yoga pants to an actual yoga class? And how! But most importantly, did I want to prove to my co-worker that yoga is for posers and hippies? Boy howdy!

You challenged me with Monika the (probably) Hungarian (mostly) female body-builder teacher who yelled out instructions in an old-country accent that made me not only drip with sweat but shake with fear.

You twisted and contorted my body into odd positions. You had me gasping for breath and praying for the sweet relief of a Chemistry midterm. You were all of the Hell and misery that I remembered from our first date so many years ago. And like so many other relationships in my life, the more complicated you became, the more I wanted you.

Maybe it’s the romantic mood lighting. Maybe it’s the New Age music on a loop. Maybe it’s just that I’ll pay $20.00 to sit in a hot room anywhere in Chicago from the months of November through May. Whatever it is, you’ve leased (with an option to buy) a place in my heart, hot yoga. And like any girl in love, you have me acting completely irrationally. $75.00 for a LuluLemon towel is completely reasonable, right? I look like a badass in a headband, don’t I? 6:00 a.m. seems like the perfect time to be awake and a 1/2 hour into Ujjayi breathing, doesn’t it? 1000 times yes, hot yoga.

You had me at Child’s Pose, and you held me in your warm embrace through Warrior II and Cobra and my body and my mind are eternally grateful for the second chance. When I’m wrong, I’m usually off the reservation wrong, and this will not be an exception. The judgemental snob in me, honors the light and strength and balance in you.

Namaste,

Jenn Boston

One of my favorite posters off to the printer today. If Nikki doesn’t want to be a doctor or stock broker when she grows up, I think she could have a future as a French Impressionist.

I didn’t write this, but I wish I had.

I’m not gonna lie – it’s been a horrible couple of weeks. I’m not sure what I did to tick off the Gods/Goddesses of holiday cheer but the joke is definitely on me.  It seems they have reduced me to an embarrassing cliché: I’m now the lady publicly weeping at Whole Foods because they are out of shallots. I’m the lady in the yoga pants who is totally not going to yoga but who couldn’t manage to complicate her life with actual clothes. I’m the lady who is this close to faking a highly contagious stomach flu so I can wrap myself up in my duvet and sleep off whatever it is that has turned me into a big, fat puddle of emotional freak-show.

It’s times like this when I really need to take a breath and grab a heaping helping of perspective (and mashed potatoes). When I’m not breaking down about root vegetables or tracking lost UPS packages all over the continental US, I am, without a doubt, the luckiest girl in the entire world.

I am, as always, amazed and humbled every day by the endless support and encouragement of my family and my friends. Every phone call, every email and every thumbs-up on Facebook makes me beam with gratitude that I am surrounded with such extraordinary people. A special shout-out to Jay who reminds me why it’s important to be kind and to lead by example. My hope is that I can teach you compassion, empathy and to always try to find the good in everyone. You are gift and a wonder and I hope I can make you as happy as you make me.

So this weekend I wish all of you nothing but joy – even if it comes disguised as delayed flights and traffic jams. I promise you it’s there somewhere and all you have to do is decide to look.

I know we’re taking some time off from each other, but I heard this and couldn’t help but think of you:

The sexiest man alive

This is probably 10 years old, but it tugs at my heartstrings every time. Suck on that Bradley Cooper…Let the romance begin!