Two years ago, feeling nostalgic for the pink and white, peppermint-striped hula hoop I used to play with as a kid, I decided to sign up for a “hoop dancing” class at a studio near Greenwich Village. I’m not much for conventional exercise, but add “dance” to the end of any noun — table dance, lap dance, high school dance … well, OK, maybe not every noun — and I’m sold on the calorie-busting activity. So when I heard about hoop dance classes — or, hooping, as some people call it — and that you could burn an entire lunch and dinner off in an hour, I jumped at the opportunity to check it out. What I learned in those classes was enough to put my 8-year-old hoop-twirling self to shame. Keep reading »