Hula Girl

As if my life wasn’t already the height of ridiculousness, I’ve taken up hula-hooping. It just seemed like the kind of thing a retired person in her thirties should spend hours doing, so I decided to give it a shot.

And now I’m addicted. See, I sway back and forth when I stand for more than a minute or so anyway. Add a hula-hoop and I just look amusing (rather than, say, disturbed or mentally disabled). Honestly, I feel like I was born to hula-hoop. I can’t believe no one mentioned it earlier. In fact, when I told my mother I had started hula-hooping, she said “I used to do that for HOURS.” Good to know, since that’s where I got the swaying from to start off with. I’m having one made for Mom so we can swap tricks on Skype.

Not that I’ve got more than one trick, that is, unless dropping the hoop on the floor counts. For a girl who spends hours a day hooping, I’m not particularly good at it. And I’m OK with that, as it’s the first time I’ve had fun doing any kind of exercise. I’m not in a hurry to be an expert – what if it gets boring? How will I spend my time?

They say you can learn to hoop in 10 minutes (and by “they” I mean internet sites that promote hoops and hooping). I believe that most people can and do. Not me, though: it took me a determined few hours and a surprising amount of bruising considering this isn’t a contact sport. Physical intelligence has never been my strong suit. I’ve worked so hard to get every movement right, though, that I can teach people tricks in minutes that take me hours to learn. I considered thinking less of myself for this, but decided instead that I have a future in Hooping for Dummies books, CDs and videos – you know, in a few years when I know what I’m doing.

For me, learning new hooping skills is the kind of action adventure other people need to go bungee jumping to achieve. First of all, I bruise easily, so learning to hoop around the knees results in looks of horror and pity at the supermarket. Some concerned neighbor is going to send the police to rescue me from domestic violence. Alas, they will find only Gus the cat.

Or maybe they won’t. Early in my hooping history, Curiosity smacked Gus in the snout with a hoop, and he’s been skeptical ever since. For weeks he would skitter off upstairs whenever I started moving furniture or produced my hoop. That turned out to be more time upstairs than he was hoping for. Now he sits on the landing of the stairs and watches, which is smart of him as I don’t think a runaway hoop could reach him there.

And run away they do, often when you least expect it. I hoop in the house, because I prefer to listen to music while I do. The risk to appliances, windows and breakable décor just adds a frisson of danger to the undertaking. In an act of clear solidarity, the metal stick-figure cat in the living room lost a toe during a particularly violent hooping episode – on the same paw as MY broke-ass toe. The rule is, now, that all liquids must be around a corner or otherwise hidden / protected from flying hula-hoops. I made that rule after the first major liquid spill. When the second one happened, I hadn’t even started hooping yet; I have a talent even for leaning the hoop in the wrong place. The wording of the rule is under review to prevent further carpet stains.

I’d spend more time hooping if it didn’t get in the way of other activities. I can’t reach my computer keyboard while hooping, for example. I’m also no good at walking while hooping, which really puts a dent in one’s productivity. I’ll read on occasion, but this is not recommended for people prone to motion sickness. Hooping while watching television makes me feel simultaneously better about watching television and worse about hula hooping, neither of which is a welcome development. Instead, hooping is more like meditation – or an opportunity to think through a thorny problem from beginning to end.

I know I’ve got it bad. I’m sure eventually someone will need to take me aside and give me a stern talking to. When the time comes, I’ll try to listen. I know I’m not ready yet, because I was pretty disappointed when my friend suggested it was time for an intervention.

Already? But I only just started…