working on it

Today, a patron at the library (a very sweet elderly woman who always comes in, signs on as a guest, and plays online casino games with her doting husband) took me aside and told me how well I was looking these days. Now, this patron is almost dottering. I believe she is still in full possession of all her faculties, but sometimes the synapses misfire a tad. Anywho, she's just the dearest thing and she'll tell you exactly what she's thinking, even if it is a bit awkward. So anyway, she pulls me aside and tells me I'm looking fit and strong and healthy...And my hips are filling out too, which is good.
I'm sure she doesn't know that my hips have been my constant sorrow (as Anne Shirley would say). I'm sure she meant that as a compliment! Many cultures, including some in the United States, view luscious hips as a boon. Few people who actually HAVE said luscious hips do, however, so for us it is always a sore spot.
I want to be strong and fit. I've kind of let my fitness and exercise program go a little when I threw out my back. With three pinched nerves and a vertibrae that is going the complete opposite direction of the rest, "painful" doesn't quite describe my workouts these days. But it's getting better. And as I get better, I definitely want to push myself harder and harder.
I have to accept that I am never going to be a size 0 with a boyish frame. My hips will never be narrow, my thighs will never be not-muscular-twigs-instead-of-highly-muscular-tree-trunk-ish. I will always have my curves. And while I can say I revel in them and am proud of my womanly figure, we all know it's a load of horse shit. But I am working on it. I am.