Hippie Love

Her hips are in love with her – they must be, why would they have stayed with her so long if they weren’t? It’s sweet, really, the kind attention they pay her; they are truly the most supportive part of her body – aside from her spine and little toe, of course. They are definitely the most loyal part of her body, the one constant in her physical life, present since the first sign of budding puberty. Always there; no matter what she does to push them away, they stay. By her side – or, rather, beneath her sides…by her backside – unmoving. Well, actually moving quite a bit. In a jiggly way.

They’ll admit, she’s been abusive to them over the years. Riding bicycles, hopping onto the elliptical for hours, taking the stairs at work, the stairs at the gym. And, oh, the squats! The lunges! Every butt-busting technique she can wrap her head around. Weekly, she scrolls through “The 10 Best Butt Workouts for Smaller Hips,” and “25 Ass-Tastic Techniques to Live By.” And, yet, they stay as if they do not know what conspiring plots are being devised. A puckered kiss on both her thighs. She must feel so loved; it’s not easy to ignore such total, undying devotion.

Her tush and her hips are best friends. They even look like each other, dimply things. Their friendship is darling, really. They encourage each other, there for one another when the world turns against them, even while she sits on them for hours a day. Smothering them while she types on.

She’s embarrassed by them. She talks bad about them behind their back and to their cheeks. They don’t take offense. Surely, they would prefer to be shown off rather than covered up, but they love her, so they don’t complain. She pulls at them, twisting and contorting them while she stares in the mirror. They’ll admit the pinching and twisting hurts, but it doesn’t last long – she tires easily and moves on.

They’ve heard her conspiring against them, wishing she had enough money to chop them off, or that the body-freezing technique actually worked. She even used a slimy wrap-thing for a while that made them shiver, cold and uncomfortable. There are times she squeezes them into super-tight undergarments for an evening, strangling them into submission. They suffer from claustrophobia, so those are always rough nights.

She compares them to her other body parts, setting up demanding expectations. It’s for this reason that they have an unhealthy jealousy of the arms and stomach, which always get the highest praise. It’s always, “Why can’t you be more like the arms and the stomach? They’re actually capable of forming muscles!” The expectations are so hard to live up to. They’re just not built that way. Stupid, shapely arms and stomach. The hips know the real truth. The arms and stomach aren’t loyal; they don’t stay true to her. They’re scam artists…lying about their true selves just to make her happy.

Who would benefit, anyway, if they turned their back on who they really are and what truly defines their soul? Would she suddenly be asked to walk the runways of Europe? Perhaps she would be asked to star in the next blockbuster. Or, maybe she would just photograph them incessantly for Instagram. Her hips sigh wearily. If she thinks tightening up is going to make her happier, she’s got another thing coming.

Loyalty is everything! These hips don’t lie.

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