The Boy: You're very lithe.
The Boy: You're very giraffe-like.
I mean, if Solomon can say this and get away with it:
2:9 My lover is like a gazelle or a young stag.
Look! There he stands behind our wall,
gazing through the windows,
peering through the lattice.
I guess it's OK for The Boy to tell me I resemble a giraffe.
At least he didn't tell me my hair was like a "flock of goats" and my teeth are a "flock of sheep". BAAAAAA!
BTW, I don't think lithe means "giraffe-like".