I have useless arms. I mean I of course can type, feed myself, and do the various day to day things that any toddler can do. However, I can’t do a single push up, or open the pickle jar on my own. My poor husband gets massaged only fifteen minutes, tops. One of the reasons I want to work out and lose weight is to fix my puny arms.
I have this case for my phone called an Otter box. I can’t take it off my phone without my husband’s help. I didn’t think about it when I bought it. I just thought, I drop this phone a lot. My husband almost insisted on it because I am a menace on phones, but I can’t take this darn case off if I need to. I spilled coffee on the phone, and couldn’t take the case off to see if I got coffee on the inside. I had to wait until I got home.
It is slightly disturbing how weak my arms are, but what is worse is they must usually be covered. I don’t pay attention to social norms much, but I don’t like to wave my arm flaps around. I am like a bat with these wings. I mean truly it is one of the things I don’t like about myself. I just want my arms to be all the same surface level. I have little bags drooping under each pit. Not trying to disgust you, but be realistic. The last time my upper arms saw sunlight was my wedding day. Only because, I wasn’t going to let my ugly arms keep me away from my dream wedding dress.
So another reason for me to lose weight is buff arms. I don’t know if I will ever get to Madonna arms. But I want to wear sleeveless dresses, and lacy sleeved shirts. I want to open the pickle jar without my husband’s help. He shouldn’t control my pickles. Someday my arms will be free. I want a tan to reach my shoulders. I want to reach up with fists victorious without being afraid my sleeves will fall down and show my webbed under pits. Mark my words, that day will come.