Hello Hips

Hello hips, it's been a while.  I haven't been able to find you for the longest time.  You’ve been hiding under baggy pants and layers of extra me.  I haven't even felt the breeze of your sway in a while, until recently.

Now and then, I’ve noticed you coming out of hiding, strutting around as if you had never been ashamed. And the other night, when I rolled over onto my stomach and adjusted the blob of scarred fat covering my belly, I felt the bone of you.  I was sooo happy to feel a hint of your bony presence again!

I remember when my body was first thinking about emerging from girlhood to womanhood.  I thought there was something wrong with my vision, my depth perception because I kept hitting you against desks, chairs, the corners of walls as I made left or right turns.  I'm sorry for all the bruises and bumps you endured during that time.

I also remember, as a young woman celebrating her sensuality, you, Hips, were my favorite body part (although my shoulders, I must admit were also very favored).  I used to lie on my side just so I could appreciate your curvy horizon.

I appreciate the Goddess-inherent, life~holding potential of your wide, sturdy shape. Hips like you are sometimes called "child-bearing hips".

I am sorry, hips, that when I lost the ability to bear children, I tossed you aside, ignored as if I had never reveled in your sensuality, had never known you as my center of gravity, had never called upon the powers between your crests to inspire me toward creativity, had never marveled at your diligent protection of my womb witch, I believed, was my seat and seed of power.

I am sorry, Hips, that I allowed my grief at the loss of my womb to coax me to turn my back on you, to cast away my appreciation of and gratitude to you.

I'm glad that you have started to gently nudge me, to remind me that also, as a crone, I still have power and value as a woman.  I'm glad that you don't necessarily demand the spotlight anymore, yet you make your presence subtly known beneath the fatty layers of my neglect, reminding me that although my womb has been stolen, my true power was deeper than my physical form, it is soul-deep.  

I'm glad that you are not jealous of the other parts that protect and uplift me. 

You, Hips, have always been there for me, even though I turned myself blind to your steadfast presence in the face of my grief.  Now, after the worst of it, you remain, peeking out occasionally to see if I am ready yet to reclaim my body, my center of gravity, my embodiment of the divine.

Hello Hips, so glad to meet you again.