I keep looking at her phone number, taking it out of my wallet and reading her writing. Hoops. Hula hoops. Hmmmm. Part of me wonders if I'd be strong enough to do it. Would it hurt my back? I flash back to those legs. So slim; it must be good for exercise, but I'm guessing at this point. Inhale. Exhale. My instincts are with me on this. I dial her number. I leave a message. I want a hoop.
When my partner comes home I inform him that he's buying me a hula hoop for Christmas. A little raise of the eyebrows. I can tell he's wondering the same thing... Can she do it?
I order my hoop, and I still have no idea what's coming. My mind's eye can't make a picture of this wheel that is somehow going to work for me . I ask for a black and white color scheme, so it can glow a bit under black light. She assures me that she can do it, and promptly calls me back with her street address so I can pick it up after she's made it.. already! It's in her mud room, and she's leaving, so I can just leave the cash inside the door or something.
Each day that passes adds more longing and intrigue. I watch some hoop dance videos online, and wish and wish for a ride or someone to pick it up for me on their way back from the little city to our village. A loyal friend tramps through a blizzard with a cell phone in hand, searching along that dark stretch of highway for the house where my hoop is waiting; kids and husband watching from the car....she could hear my fretted wanting of this item and understood like a true girlfriend would. I could hear her traversing over snowbanks and tramping through people's properties, and still she can't find the place.
It's now December 24th, 2008, Christmas Eve day. The tree is decorated. Everything and everyone is calm, except for me. There's another snowstorm, and all I can think about is my hoop, in its respective mud room, all alone. We have no other reason to make the somewhat dangerous drive down the lake other than this.
"Well..looks like we'll have to wait till after Christmas to get that hoop..." This is my partner talking, not me.
But I want to start sculpting my body now.
I wait, I say nothing. Wait a little longer...
"Can we just go get it?"
An hour later we find the house, I throw open the door and there it is, leaning up against the freezer; a fabulous, sexy looking thing with black fabrics wrapping and weaving with white, bubbly yarn, and five sections of white, pure, fun-fur, expertly and evenly spaced around its circumferance. I hold it up as we walk back to the truck. It's BEAUTIFUL! And it's so huge....
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