Angel, guarding our luggage during our 6 hour plane delay in San Francisco. After both the hip incident and the delay, I've decided that SFO is not in the running for my favorite airport. Thus far, Singapore and Gerald R. Ford International are the top two.
I try so hard each time to figure out what to wear so that I don't get patted down. I was wearing a cotton dress with jeans underneath--apparently this combo didn't work for me.
I'm silently submitting to the pat down when the lady asks, with her hand on my hip,
"Ma'am, have you removed all items from your pockets?"
"Yes." I confirm.
"Well, it feels to me like you have something hard that sticks out of this pocket right here, can you please remove that?" she says, patting on my hip.
"Umm, that's my hipbone," I say.
Her other hand moves to my right hip, as if to confirm that my body is roughly symmetrical in shape.
"Oh, well, then, you're good." she says, and waves me on by.
Now, perhaps my hipbones are a little pointier than average, but that's the first time I've ever had them considered a suspicious item on my person.
I feel like there's a joke to be make out of this...but I'm too sleepy. And it's fairly awkward to write an entire blog post about hips, so give me a few minutes to get over that.
(Also, please, no worries about my health. I've been the same weight and size for over 10 years and it's very normal for my bones to be a little on the pointy side.)