Hoop da loop

Further to my post in sunny Queensland I wanted to fess up that I haven’t touched a hoop since. Well, not that I have a hoop to touch, and it has only been a week, but still, not exactly as I had planned. I found a picture of a 1950’s woman in fitted frock and pearls looking insanely happy to be hooping, and stuck it up at work – so that’s gotta count for something, but not much. The good news is that the dance school where I did the Saturday Bollywood workshop with the Angelic Inner City Chick is now offering hoping workshops. I have enrolled in one! Apparently you can buy hoops there, consolidate the basics, learn tricks. I am so excited. My lunchtimes in the park with Justin Timberlake fantasy* now features me doing breathtakingly tricky tricks and wowing all passerbys with the sheer finesse of my skills, rather than knocking out passerbys with a hoop to the head.

Other recent learnings to share – do not, and I repeat, do not, demonstrate your love of hooping to your coworkers by reenacting the new found understated tight circlular hip motion that replaced your arse-out-legs-wide-and-bent-like-a-frog beginners technique…while sitting at your desk chair. Why? Oh only because you will look like a pervert who is trying out tantra with the upholstery whilst hoping to flag down a passing aeroplane with your strange wavy arms. Yes you will. That’s just too weird for work**.

• Not with actual Justin Timberlake, just his music, due to its amazing hula attributes, as discussed previously. Although, actually, if I’m honest I would probably go Justin. But you know, just the once. And not in the park near work.
• ** Unless you are trying to live in a David Lynch film, in which case I think that would be fine. All you would need as acccessories are some dwarves talking backwards and someone dancing alone in the corner to haunting music. See Betty Sue for discussions of life in a French Film.