Hips

This was written three weeks ago, just before the Roswell trip.  It makes me laugh and even though I don't think I ever intended to publish it, I felt the world could use a laugh. 

I am very proud of my hips.  They are very lovely.  I may not be be a Mona Lisa and I am a far cry from Aphrodite, but I think my hips are lovely just the same.  As Larry the Cucumber loves his lips, I love my hips. 

Today while walking a happy jaunt down the drive way back to the house, secure in the knowledge that someone would be feeding my cat in my absence, and musing on the possibilities for the future, I considered how very aesthetically pleasing and yet practical my hips were. 

When I carry Karina on my hip I walk very differently than when I am dancing with Rebecca.  When Grish jumps on my back I sometimes wish God had blessed me with broad shoulders instead but I love my hips just the same.  How very lovely they are.  I can stabilize a crying three-year-old one minute and dance a very entertaining cha-cha the next, all the while maintaining the beauty that God gave me.  Perhaps I am not the most beautiful of women but I do have very utilitarian, entertaining, and active hips.  And I'm okay with that.