Every Hoop has a Beginning, Doesn’t It? Part 7

Hoop Ballet

Every Hoop has a Beginning, Doesn’t It? Part 7

Continued from part 6.

The hoop class was held in a dance type studio.  Beautiful hard wood floors and tall mirrors from top to bottom.  The smell of the room took me back to Hansen’s Dance and Tumbling where I spent eight years of my childhood pointing my toes, straightening my knees, sucking in my belly, and tucking in my butt.  As I stood with a hoop in my hand, I could almost hear the white-haired instructor yelling at me, and slapping her hands against her thighs telling me to “turn out,” meaning turn my toes out which uncontrollable pointed inward like a pigeon.

I was limber, athletic and never shy in a spotlight.  I had rhythm and was a pretty good dancer except for my pigeon toes.

I was standing at the ballet bar working on my first position when the hoop class instructor told us to make a circle.  We had to introduce ourselves, saying our name and why we had chosen to take the  class. I threw an internal tantrum because I hate stuff like that. No. I don’t wanna. I wanted to scream. All I wanted to do was run around barefoot on the wood floor.

When it was my turn I said, “I want to hoop because it makes me feel like a kid.” This statement followed with a touch of laughter that sounded like a machine gun which, no doubt, made me appear extra special. But I became giddy realizing just how much of a child I felt.

The instructor smiled  as everyone in the circle said their thing.  After the awkward introductions, we spread out across the dance floor, and class began.

Part 8