Hips

As I sit here, my heart is knotting. I could not be getting a heart attack. No. I haven’t got my period in two months. As if this matters. I could be pregnant but then there is not much historical evidence to back this claim. Someone just walked in with groceries; I asked if he needed help. He said that is the general consensus of everyone he meets. I figured he did not need any help. Or did I deduce that wrong? I am not getting up seeing as he is smiling at me as if saying, ‘I know you were just being polite. You are not getting your butt off that seat.’ Well thought pal. Not a cheek off here. 

I love my body. Since I started using moya oil on my body I can’t get over caressing myself.  If I said Shea butter the effect of this oil diminishes. In my country people use Moya oil for food; meaning that most of the time these days I smell like Ugandan food with Moya in it. One of my friends thinks this is the reason I get checked out by a lot by men around here. I see them look at me and many times I want to walk over and ask, “Is there a problem?” Thing is she thinks they find me attractive. I think otherwise. I think they are all a bunch of racists. I know for sure, I trust my judgment.

I think Jesse McCartney sings of me when he sings 'Body Language' because am starting to think the thing behind me is amazing. I am in love with Shakira's ‘hips do not lie’ which is my inspiration for taking belly dancing classes. The stories hips can tell I want mine to tell. So here is to belly dancing and evoking my hips to say things.