I took a yoga class once. I loved it and was convinced yoga was going to be something I pursued in earnest. My ever supportive husband bought me a yoga mat. I bought a yoga DVD or two. I did yoga until life took over and I didn't have time for it. When I did manage to strike a pose or two, I had small children climbing all over me, which made it no where near the relaxing experience I remembered from the class.
The last time I practiced yoga, my six-year-old son was an infant. Ever since, my yoga mat has been residing under my bed. I should have sold it in my last garage sale. Or, maybe donated it to the local thrift store. I've been thinking about getting rid of it lately. Today, I walked into the bedroom to discover this:
If you're wondering what happened to my yoga mat, I think this picture says it all: