Hips Don’t Lie … Or Do They?
I have recently noticed that my hips are taking on a new shape. What were once bony daggers liable to fatally wound anyone standing too close are now slowly curving into lines that resemble something slightly less weapon-like.
Now, at first I was delighted with their glorious new shape. Grand visions of becoming a professional belly dancer or perhaps a muse for a classical sculpture started skipping through my mind. But then I got to thinking what my hips were really trying to tell me. And the more I thought about it, the more miffed I got at my hips. Who did they think they were parading my fertility in my face and reminding me that I have the potential to be a lean, mean, procreating machine? Didn’t they remember growing up in a place where it’s pretty normal for babies to bear babies themselves, but swearing to each other that this was one norm we would not heed? I know we didn’t sign in blood or even with a witness present, but I took that pledge very seriously, unlike those lying urchin-snouted varmints who call themselves my hips.
Well, I’ve got news for you hips – you can broaden all you like, but your broadening shall not be used to bear babies so much as to hula hoop and add impressive pelvic thrusts to interpretive dance routines, ha!