"Nic has given herself more bruises, bumps and scrapes in one hour attempting to learn how to use a weighted hula hoop than in all 3 years of getting healthier-related hurts. (And yes, that includes the weighted wrist weights/punching one's face Wii-boxing debacle!)
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger? Hope so - Death By Hula Hoop would look really naff on a tombstone..."
Many years ago BE (before exercise), when my home town still had an Argos, (a UK catalogue retailer), I was convinced that buying a Davina McCall soft foam, jointed exercise hula hoop was the way forward in whittling down my waist. And it would have been, too, had I not fallen for the biggest con in the book: that one size fits all.
So. Not. True.
I had no idea that a basic 'hoop diameter - hip girth = optimum rotation' formula existed. Well, it doesn't per se, as I just made that up, but there will be someone with a head for figures both mathematical and corporeal who can make sense of the fact that if you have a small hoop, and a large body, the chances of making more than one rotation before the thing falls to bruise your heels are small to none, and no amount of gyrating will keep it up around your hips, or waist, or wherever it's likely to fit. There's just not enough inner hoop space. Or whatever it's called.
I really must get round to learning the technical language of hooping.
So that blue and yellow Davina hoop spent the next mumble-mumble years separated into its six sections, trussed up in a cotton bag, no doubt admonishing me for my waste and neglect in its own broken-down, hoopy way before I finally came to terms with the truth; that going by my own weight/height/frame ratio I'd have to be about a size fourteen to really benefit from its use.
We took an emotional trip to the second-hand shop on the corner, hoop and I, but I know it's in a better place now, being loved by someone who won't ignore it and leave it languishing between empty suitcases and old decorating paraphernalia.
And in the spirit of of our modern throwaway society, I replaced something that still works, with something that is bigger and shinier.
Oh, okay, I'm being a little hard on myself here, but I have to admit feeling a little ashamed having spent money I didn't really have on something I barely used, then giving it away to a charity shop. But 'tis true, I did find a bigger and shinier model on eBay, a weighted hoop of a much larger diameter, complete with half rubber balls on the inside to, and I quote, "massage the waist".
I'm not usually one to fall for the massage your fat away rubbish, so I feel the need to point out that the reason I bought this hoop was purely a monetary one: it was cheap, and the postage was free! (I believe the phrase you're looking for begins with "You can take the girl out of Scotland...")
But bumps and scrapes? Oh yes, in painfully plentiful supply. I think the first ten minutes gave me a good sample of the many ways and means in which an innocent hoop can inflict injury. I won't give you a list, but let me say that the rest of this first learning experience was made with your new hooper standing in a circle of sofa cushions, tube bandages protecting her ankle bones, and all loose clothing thoroughly and closely bound.
And it still wasn't enough. The Hoop. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger? Hope so - Death By Hula Hoop would look really naff on a tombstone..."
Many years ago BE (before exercise), when my home town still had an Argos, (a UK catalogue retailer), I was convinced that buying a Davina McCall soft foam, jointed exercise hula hoop was the way forward in whittling down my waist. And it would have been, too, had I not fallen for the biggest con in the book: that one size fits all.
So. Not. True.
I had no idea that a basic 'hoop diameter - hip girth = optimum rotation' formula existed. Well, it doesn't per se, as I just made that up, but there will be someone with a head for figures both mathematical and corporeal who can make sense of the fact that if you have a small hoop, and a large body, the chances of making more than one rotation before the thing falls to bruise your heels are small to none, and no amount of gyrating will keep it up around your hips, or waist, or wherever it's likely to fit. There's just not enough inner hoop space. Or whatever it's called.
I really must get round to learning the technical language of hooping.
So that blue and yellow Davina hoop spent the next mumble-mumble years separated into its six sections, trussed up in a cotton bag, no doubt admonishing me for my waste and neglect in its own broken-down, hoopy way before I finally came to terms with the truth; that going by my own weight/height/frame ratio I'd have to be about a size fourteen to really benefit from its use.
We took an emotional trip to the second-hand shop on the corner, hoop and I, but I know it's in a better place now, being loved by someone who won't ignore it and leave it languishing between empty suitcases and old decorating paraphernalia.
And in the spirit of of our modern throwaway society, I replaced something that still works, with something that is bigger and shinier.
Oh, okay, I'm being a little hard on myself here, but I have to admit feeling a little ashamed having spent money I didn't really have on something I barely used, then giving it away to a charity shop. But 'tis true, I did find a bigger and shinier model on eBay, a weighted hoop of a much larger diameter, complete with half rubber balls on the inside to, and I quote, "massage the waist".
I'm not usually one to fall for the massage your fat away rubbish, so I feel the need to point out that the reason I bought this hoop was purely a monetary one: it was cheap, and the postage was free! (I believe the phrase you're looking for begins with "You can take the girl out of Scotland...")
But bumps and scrapes? Oh yes, in painfully plentiful supply. I think the first ten minutes gave me a good sample of the many ways and means in which an innocent hoop can inflict injury. I won't give you a list, but let me say that the rest of this first learning experience was made with your new hooper standing in a circle of sofa cushions, tube bandages protecting her ankle bones, and all loose clothing thoroughly and closely bound.
And it still wasn't enough. The Hoop. Be afraid. Be very afraid.