It's true: This white girl can't dance

Do you have fond memories of hula hooping as a child? Letting the hoop go round and round your waist, over and over again?

Yeah, I don’t. My only memories of hula-hooping involve me desperately trying to find some kind of rhythm and constantly bending down to pick up the hula-hoop.

With all those fond hula-hooping memories, it only makes sense that my friend Alisa and I would take a dance class that involved a lot of hula-hooping! A few weeks ago, we purchased a Living Social deal for a dance studio right around the corner from house, bRisque. It was a great deal with $19 getting us five classes. We figured we’d try it out some different classes and see what we liked.

We chose a class that our friend Jean had described as low impact. Did Jean warn us that we were about to assault ourselves with hula-hoops? Hell to the no!

So, we walked into class and were warmly greeted by our instructor Issis and the other classmates. We quickly grabbed a spot in the back of the class. As we’ve previously discussed on this blog, I am rhythmically challenged in ways that can’t even be described through the written word. Issis rolled out these weighted hula-hoops nonchalantly.

Alisa looked at me with what can only be described as panic. “I can’t hula-hoop,” she whispered.

And I had to laugh. Because the way she said it indicated that she though maybe I had some hidden hula-hooping skills I was about to bust out. “Me neither, “ I assured her.

“Alright,” said Issis. “If you’ve never used a weighted hula-hoop before, I must warn you. It is going to hurt. These little ridges here will hit your abs and it hurts.”

Awesome.

Fellow white people, I have to admit that Alisa and I managed to fulfill every white person stereotype as we rocked and swayed and flopped around, trying to keep our hula-hoops up. Did I mention we were the only two white people in the class? Everyone else swished their hips as the hula-hoops rolled effortlessly around their waists.

After a good five minutes of hula hoop assault, we moved on to the dancing portion. Again, we tried our best but failed to match the instructor’s smooth moves. However, each time I looked at us in the mirror, Alisa and I were laughing hysterically. I don’t think I have ever enjoyed a workout so much.

We went back to the hula-hoops. As I was concentrating on getting my hula-hoop going, I heard Alisa yelling, “Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap!” She had a good 45 seconds of constant hula-hoop motion going. That’s the best two rhythmically challenged girls could ask for.

We stayed after class to talk to Issis about some of the other classes and what they entail. She was so nice and kind. We told her we have no rhythm and she kindly explained that society has a lot of stereotypes of what certain people can do and that it’s important to ignore that and find our own rhythm. I think that was the nicest way to say white girls can’t dance!

While we aren’t going to be entering hula-hooping contests anytime soon, Alisa and I had a great time. The bRisque environment is very welcoming. Even one of my fellow classmates came over to try to help me. I am sure we looked like absolute idiots, but certainly no one made us feel that way. I can’t wait to go back and try some other classes.

As far as my February beer sampling goes, I went no further than my own fridge to try a new beer this month. My friend Michelle brought me a sampling of different beers from Trader Joe’s for the Super Bowl and I had a few left over. This month’s selection was a Stockyard Oatmeal Stout. What does an Oatmeal Beer taste like? It was sort of a roasted malt and oatmeal flavor. It was also a little bitter, but a good bitter. More of a dark chocolate bitter. It was delicious. Thanks, Michelle!