Well, it has happened. Actually it happened a long time ago. I am now making it public. I have Grandma arms. You know, that extra skin, or whatever, that hangs down from your upper arm (you know, the triceps). It’s like an old cartoon of a weight lifter whose muscle is tight and then slinks back under his arm.
I call them Grandma arms because my grandma had them. We used to make so much fun of her because they seemed to wave in the breeze. And they do. If I was royalty and had to extend my arms to wave, my arm would go in one direction and my triceps go in another.
I was discussing the embarrassment of these with a friend and said that I was going to have bat wings tattooed onto my upper arms. She came back and said to have angel wings tattooed. Then I got to thinking about
Dragon Wings
Fairy Wings
Eagle Wings
(any bird) Wings
Airplane Wings
We could go on and on.
I doubt that I do any of this. I doubt that I would have plastic surgery to remove the fat and/or skin. I remember when Oprah lost all of her weight and didn’t know what to do with her upper arms and a friend suggested to have plastic surgery. She refused. She said there would be scars.
I think we should look at Grandma arms with pride. That’s right. Most of us didn’t take care of those triceps. I used to pride myself in not having any upper body strength. Now I berate myself that I have absolutely no upper body strength. That doesn’t change anything. I still don’t even try to utilize my upper arms. You know how you won’t exercise because you don’t want it to hurt, and it hurts anyway? Yeah, me too.
But hey, I’m a grandma now so it’s alright that I have Grandma arms. One of my granddaughters shows her appreciation of anyone by hugging their upper arms. I don’t know why. I’m just glad there is a lot for her to hold onto.
One day I may get my Grandma arms tattooed. I’m sure my grandmother would not appreciate that is one of my favorite memories of her. But, it is, and always will be.