I Do, However, Own a Yoga Mat

I crossed the parking lot to enter the gym and passed a woman walking alongside two guys.
"OH HI," she said. I knew that she had to be talking to me because the only other people in the area were with her. I turned around.
"Hi?"
"OH MY GD! YOU'RE THE YOGA TEACHER!"
It took a few seconds for me to register that (a) she was shouting from excitement, (b) I didn't know who she was, and what is perhaps the most important point, (c) I'm not a yoga teacher.
"No...sorry. Sorry, I'm not the--"
"Oh, you're not???" She looked at me like I was crazy for forgetting that I give yoga classes.
"Right. Sorry."
The guys who had been walking with her snickered. She ignorned them and launched into an explanation.
"You look just like her!"
"But isn't she...blonde?" I stupidly asked. "I took a yoga class here once and the instructor was...well, I think she was...blonde." And Australian. And somewhere between 10-20 pounds smaller than I am.
"No, no, she's not blonde. You have her face and her build, and oh you two look like copies of each other!"
"Well, thank you," I said. But she didn't seem to want to go. "Um...so thanks. I'll just be going...into the gym. Thanks, again. Bye!"

The End?