Hoopin’ it up with ChristaHoops
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Karen Hamilton
July 25, 2009
Gold sponsor ChristaHoops, who has generously donated $120 to the Greater Vancouver Food Bank Society plus a custom-fit rainbow hoop for our Blogathon 2009 Grand Prize raffle, invited Team Tiny Bites to try one of her hoop classes this past week.
Faced with logistical challenges, I in turn invited my friend, hooping skeptic, and good sport Dave Hoffmann to jump through the hoops (heh) on my behalf. Here is Dave’s take on the class.
You’re probably looking at that first photo and wondering, How exactly did that paragon of virility end up in a dance studio holding a sparkly, colourful hoop? Good question, glad you asked it.
It all started when Karen informed me of the existence of a strong subculture of people who gyrate blithely with cords of plastic tubing circumnavigating their bodies here in our fair city. She said that one of the… er… ringleaders… of the appropriately-named “hoopers,” a lady by the name of Christa Giles, had agreed to sponsor Tiny Bites’ effort for Blogathon 2009.
Christa also invited the gang to drop into a class and showcase hooping to the 604. However, given that Karen’s currently with child, prudency dictated that swinging a hoop around a big ol’ baby belly wasn’t the wisest course of action. Consequently, she carefully considered who amongst her cavalcade of friends would be apt to fill in for her. Inexplicably, she picked me.
For those of you who don’t know me, you might get the impression from this post that I’m a bit of a douche. For those of you who do know me, you know that I am a bit of a douche. When I dance, I look like an epileptic who jammed a fork into a power outlet. Misanthropy comes naturally to me, much like slouching or flatulence. I like fast cars, red meat, hot chicks, and hell, I even vote Conservative.
Like I said: douche. [Karen's note: I'll second that.]
So imagine my surprise when our dear Karen asked if I’d do her a solid and attend a hooping class on behalf of Tiny Bites. Apparently, in Karen’s eyes, I was the perfect candidate to spend a good hour with what I believed to be patchouli-scented, tree-loving, unshaven children of Earth Mother Gaia, insanely focused on the pursuit of Nirvana through the mastery of centrifugal force.
Yay! Can’t hardly wait!
Anyway, the time came to learn to hoop. Karen and I made our way to the class, me with my lack of coordination and her with camera primed and ready to capture every moment of my pending humiliation. As we approached the birchwood studio doors, I would do my best to abandon all my preconceptions at the threshold, grab me some hoop, and gyrate like a monkey in heat. I would have fun or die trying… presumably by hanging from a hoop that got caught on one of the studio’s oscillating ceiling fans because of my spastic clumsiness.
My first surprise of the evening came as we entered the studio. The unemployed Phish enthusiasts I expected to see were nowhere to be found. Instead, we met a trio of remarkably normal looking women, everyday people who just thought hooping was a lot of fun. Wow, I thought, these people are just like me (save for the whole gender thing). Who knew?
Until the instructor for the class, the aforementioned Christa, arrived, that is.
Christa swept into the studio, a veritable force of nature sporting a shock of boyishly-cut, rose-coloured hair, a flowing cotton dress, and a bright, airy smile. I confess that I couldn’t help but think that we were moments away from linking hands to form a “friendship hoop” to sing protest songs and discuss the latest in tie-dye patterns. That’s when I got my second surprise.
With her initial instructions to the class, I got a glimpse at the real Christa beneath the motley exterior. She obviously knew how to handle a hoop herself; what was more impressive, however, was her ability to convey her impressive knowledge of hooping techniques to everyone in the class, regardless of the student’s skill level. I quickly found Christa to be focused, intelligent, personable, patient, and concise. In short, an excellent teacher.
Her tutelage led to my third surprise: I was having fun! Real honest-to-goodness, giggle-like-an-idiot fun! And I wasn’t dead by my own klutzy hand yet, either!
Epic win! Yay me!
Under Christa’s guidance, I learned to keep a hoop spinning around my waist indefinitely. To hoop with my hands. To toss the still-spinning extruded plastic dingus (bonus points if you know the reference) in the air and catch it. To transition between seemingly unconnected moves requiring odd body contortions. And all with no significant injury (thanks in large part to my quick reflexes, the duck-and-cover position, and Christa’s constant affirmations that “it’s normal… happens to everyone…”)!
In total, we hooped for an hour. By the end of it, I’d picked up some mad hooping skills and worked up a surprising sweat. I also had a strange desire to don a head scarf and chew some peyote at a love-in, but that could have come from somewhere else.
All kidding aside, I enjoyed my brief time spent with ChristaHoops. I don’t think hooping is likely to become a permanent fixture in my life, but I’m glad I did it and would heartily recommend to anyone that they try it out at least once.
[Karen's note: I was photog to Dave's hooping experience and joined in for the non-belly-touching hoopwork. I also had heaps of fun and left the studio with surprisingly fatigued arm and leg muscles. I am seriously considering getting a small hoop and taking a few more classes to get my arms to baby-touting strength. Good thing Christa's having a Scratch & Dent hoop sale on July 26th! ]
Categories: Blogging for Social Change, Food, Miscellany
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