~7 min read.

As a kid, I enjoyed gymnastics. Then I saw a home video (an early 90s style video) of me partaking in a group performance. I was mortified as I saw for the first time what I looked like. I remember how I felt when doing the moves I was watching. I felt elegant like the other girls in the class. No! I felt MORE elegant. But I was not! I’m out of time. I’m flinging my limbs and back around. I’m over arching, over flaying. An onlooker must have wondered whether this child was possessed by a baby goat! In that moment I realised that what I felt in my body did not resemble the movements displayed to the world.

Upon this realisation, I lost enthusiasm for gymnastics and avoided anything that required hand eye coordination. “You’ve got your grandfather’s genes”, I’d be lovingly told when I bumped into a door frame. “He’s clumsy too.”. As we all do, I learnt to accept my limitations. During my adolescence, I laughed along, “Yea, I’m okay!”, I’d reassure others as I’d dust myself down. “Bums are for landing on!”

And being comically clumsy is great for others around me, should you be a fan of slapstick humour. I’ve bitten my finger, painfully hard, multiple times from eating too quickly. I’ve called for help from a stranger in a changing room because I’m stuck in an item of clothing so many times I’ve become numb to its embarrassment. And I swear, sometimes my phone magically leaps out my hand.

Being upside down

Despite struggling with movement the right way up, I love being upside down. I would see a circus show and get obsessed with learning everything I saw! I have practiced for years and years and years. Mostly at home because yoga teachers seemed stressed! Encouraging me to practice against a wall, or to, “be more patient and slow down – don’t just throw yourself”. PAH!! I didn’t care about falling over – I’m always falling over!

Now my headstand is incredible! My forearm stand is pretty good. And my handstand is sometimes there for an exhilarating second or two.

Then two years ago I started learning aerial hoop. I’m strong and flexible, I thought. I can do this!

Being the class dunce

A few weeks of aerial hoop classes and I wanted to quit. It’s hard to find the motivation after a hectic workday to go to a place where I struggle to understand the language (it’s in French), and I feel embarrassed and impatient as I’m shown simpler moves than everyone else, and on a hoop that’s much lower. But instead I doubled down. I got a hoop installed at home. I took months to confess this advantage to other people in the class because I didn’t want them to know that even with extra practice at home, I’m still this bad! But time goes on. New people join. And sometimes they’re initially worse than me. Meanwhile I only get better.

Despite knowing I lack coordination, when the teacher shows a new move, I race to be the first one on the hoop, thinking, “Yea! I can do that!”. That delusional girl who believed she was the elegant girl in the gymnastics class is still there! Then three seconds later, on the hoop, and I can’t recall a single move that the teacher did. I’m watching my video of the teacher over and over – frustrated that trying to solve this puzzle is beyond my abilities. 

After months, the video watching is replaced with patient direction from other students. It takes a small team to build my body awareness! They give me a lot of extra coaching. ‘That’s right – now put your arm there – your other arm – not there – not there – yes there!”. I can’t tell my left from my right – having to look at my limbs and remembering that I only have tattoos on my left side. Then, when I do get it, the studio briefly fills with cheer and relief!

Being amazing!

Part of learning the aerial hoop requires videoing yourself. I resisted this for nearly a year. Fearful that seeing videos of myself on the hoop would pollute my enjoyment with self-consciousness. But now I’m used to these videos. And now, sometimes when I watch myself, I can’t believe how graceful I seem. I’ll narcissistically watch these clips over and over and spam friends and family with the videos and comments, “LOOK!! LOOK AT HOW AMAZING I LOOK!!”

Other students in the class get a move after one to five attempts. Of course this comparison makes me jealous. But above all, I friggin’ love learning what I can do. And everyone is kind and encouraging as we each take on our own battle – whether it’s strength, flexibility, loosening up, coordination, courage to try a drop, or handling the nausea of spinning. We’re each battling our own limitations – and then we do it! Go us!

Being me

I’m still clumsy. My lack of spatial awareness will still unfailingly crack people up unexpectedly. But for a few minutes a week, I look graceful, and I have video evidence of these glorious achievements!

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AI note: Despite my prolific use of Chatgpt, this article has not seen an AI enhancer.