One year, B took me to a somewhat local music festival. Like all camping fests, it included its fair shares of dirty hippy people doing dirty hippy things.
Now, I get the whole, peace/love/free expression vibe. And man, some of their fashion was pretty awesome. But, besides that, I draw the line on my love for hippy culture. I respect you if that’s your thing, but dont expect me to join in our uncoordinated drum circle anytime soon.
But there is one thing that I do appreciate from pseudo-hippies. And it’ so odd that I dont even know if I should share it…
Ok, I will. Because I’m blogging and I can say whatever I want without total repercussions or judgment.
Man. I want to learn how to hoop…
Hoop, as in HULA HOOP!
Mind blown, futuristic hippy lady.
First of all, this looks like a fantastic workout. And since my hips certainly do not belong to Shakira, I’d love to find a great workout for them. But, there’s an issue.
I. Cant. Hula. Hoop!
I’ve tried countless amounts of times to learn. Friends have spent hours (nay, minutes) trying to teach me. But as patient as they may be, my inability to make perfect circles with my hips has ruled the day. Sometime around college, I came to the conclusion that I would never, ever learn how to hula hoop. There was obviously something wrong with my body since it felt like I was the only girl in the world who lacked the ability to swing a plastic colored ring around her torso.
It’s so alienating, let me tell you.
Now that I am older and have been experimenting with fitness trends like Zumba and the occasional strip-tease class, I think it’s time to spread my wings and give this one a go.
But where do I start? I HAVE NO IDEA. Do I just buy a hoop and spend hours in my locked bedroom until I get it right? Or do they have classes where adults like me learn the basics of hip movements? Worse so, if I do find a hooping class, will it be filled with 10 year old girls who have already mastered the neck hooping?
I think this is just one of those things where I am going to have to learn it on my own, at least to save potential embarrassment and finger pointing from little girls.
The next time I go to Target, I’ll buy myself a hula hoop and dedicate some time to learning. Rome wasn’t built in a day, I suppose. And I wasn’t able to run a 5K the first
week three months I tried.
Maybe this will become a metaphor for my life. It seems like a lot of fitness stuff does once I get good at it. Heck, half the time in spin class, I remind myself that every spin is a journey… or some BS like that.
Maybe every turn around the hoop will be one more daemon from my childhood leaving me? Nah. Too dramatic. I’ll work on it.
Any suggestions on how conquering hooping can be a metaphor for my life? Bonus point if it uses a pun.