Aselin

Recently an new phenomenon has come into my life: Groupon. At first I was intrigued because the descriptive writing describing the daily product was so absurd I found it wonderfully entertaining. Like today's deal for Floyd's Kitchen:

Adding gourmet ingredients to a meal makes a commonplace activity feel special, much like brushing your teeth with a sparkler or withdrawing money from an ATM while holding it at gunpoint.

Or this one for an artisan craft store:

Bare walls have plenty of advantages: ample surface area for finger painting, an absence of disapproving Churchill posters, and no mirrors reminding you that your hair is on fire.

After reading these daily posts it made me want to work there! Instead, I've just comforted my already overburdened self by purchasing random coupons for things I never knew I needed. But hey, I also never realized the Karmic impact of the absence of Churchill posters in my home. So see? New, Groupon horizons!!

Most of what I have purchased would not surprise any of you - it's been food. OK, I've purchased, and now consumed a lot of food. But, it was at a great price!

Admittedly some of the purchases have been outside my normal fenced area. Off leash sorts of stuff. One recent purchase was for a workout studio. I do work out on my own, but formal, group working out always scare me. So when a friend said "lets go together" of course, I realized there would be safety in numbers.

Ha.

We purchased these Groupons because they held female-only dance workout classes. Weird, eclectic, dance workout classes. Bollywood dancing. Pole dancing. Hula Hooping.

You can see this is not going to end well.

So I register and show up for my first class. The hula hoop class. Walking down a well-lit hallway I'm guided to one of the studio rooms. I crack open the door hoping to spot my friend and am totally confused - it is pitch BLACK. OK, I'm not decrepit old, but hula hooping in the dark is not going to be a good idea.

I can't see a thing and literally grope the wall until I stepped on someone. We both apologized because neither of us could tell whose fault it was that we had collided - and this was during the non-hooping warm up phase.

So I finally crawl to the open spot my friend has saved for me. I join her on the floor and keep whispering my fascinating commentary to her during the stretching warm-up. A hard fact of aging is that responsible old people should stretch before they hula hoop.

Blessedly, the instructor decides to re-think her "hoop in the dark" strategy. She explains that she has designed a space-themed workout for us tonight with our hula hoops and wanted it to be as realistic as possible. Huh? Let me just say, unless I get knocked unconscious by another space-hooper, at no time am I going to think I'm in space and crushing that delusion will just be good for all of us.

She turns the lights on, and I turn to my friend to continue my scintillating running commentary, only to realize, it's not my friend. My friend isn't even in the room. This poor woman next to me actually walked to the other side of the room once the lights came on.

Well, great. More room for me.

I'm blocking off my space with my hula hoops and the instructor gets the class started to a cover version of "Space Oddity". So there I am, trying desperately to get the hoop to orbit my non-existent hips to the space-strains of a Bowie knock-off. I'm bumpin' and grindin' and gyrating myself into some sort of spasmodic sweat. It was awful.

In case you wondered, hula hoops make a HUGE bang when they hit the ground, and mine hit the ground with frustrating regularity. The hooper in front of me starts to giggle as she literally turns around to watch me. The class was moving into more complicated moves...I mean "Planetary orbits" and I can barely keep the hoop going around my waist for three rotations.

I would make a crappy planet.

The hooper in front of me keeps giving me advice. Pretty good advice, but getting my body to do what I pictured in my head was proving impossible. My hooper buddy, is laughing, I'm laughing and then she winks at me. A nice, encouraging wink.

Wait.

She then turns around again and smiles, nods and winks.

Uuuuuuh.

The class is now gyrating rather impressively to "Major Tom" and I've just realized my gravitational pull is stronger than I knew. Strong enough to pull in lesbian hula hoopers. I'm trying not to to be awkward, but Hooper Buddy is staring at me. With her back to the instructor. Staring.

Oh boy.

After what seemed like 4,000 light years, the class ended, and I hung up my hoop. As I was putting on my shoes, Hooper Buddy sat right next to me. Right next.

I scooted a few inches away, and she just scooted after me. She was asking my name, and if I've been there before because she's never seen me there before and wondered if I was taking any other classes (take a breath) and I was a really good hula hooper for a first timer and she's been doing hula hoop since she was a kid and that's why she could help me so much and would I be there for the next hula hoop class (take a breath)...

I couldn't get a word in edgewise, which is probably good because it was a rare moment when I didn't know what to say.

Smiling, I thanked her for her help and said I'd "see ya later" and then sprinted to the car.

Upon reflection, I should not have been so flustered. I got exactly what the Groupon described.