The Right to Bear Arms

Once when I was visiting my parents in the summer, it was swelteringly hot and I got dressed into my then-favorite white linen sleeveless tank dress. When I entered the kitchen my mother took one look at me and asked if I really wanted to go sleeveless, the insinuation being that with fat upper arms, wouldn’t I really rather cover them up? I replied to her “Because I’m fat, I should be hot too?” and without noticing her reply I carried on with my sleeveless day. It felt like such a “moment” between us because of all people (a woman who had to listen to my father’s put downs about her weight for years), wouldn’t she be at a different place with the acceptance of her size? She is not I fear. She still carries the shame of being told horrible things about how she looked by the person who should have been loving and supporting her unconditionally. The scars of that, I imagine, are so ingrained but then, so are they on all of us who are constantly hearing that something is wrong with us and that we need to be fixed.

Now on this note, along comes the Arm Shapewear Collection from Tres Sleek. It’s like a Spanx for upper arms. Quite honestly, to me it looks like a shrug with the elasticity to strangle you if positioned just right. Would you wear this? It’s essentially a girdle for your arms. Do you find it as ridiculous as I do? For me, it ranks right up there with having vaginal reconstruction surgery because you don’t like how it looks “down there.” Are we totally insane? Are we ever going to let ourselves simply “be”? My upper arms are fat and they match the rest of me. When I look at them at just the right angle, they look exactly like my grandmother’s arms (without so many wrinkles) and there is something in that I like. Do I lust after chiseled biceps like Madonna’s, who seems to be held up as the gold standard for these sorts of things, especially for women over 40? Honestly, no I don’t. Do I wish my arms were stronger? Yeah, I do.

Note: GGF is always telling me “you have no strength in your arms.” This is true of course and apparent mostly after we have moved a heavy piece of furniture from Ikea to my house and he has had to do the majority of the lifting. He’s such a good GOOD friend!

Back to the subject at hand. No pun intended! It’s hot right now and I’m living in sleeveless dresses. I’m hot all the time quite frankly and sometimes even a sweater is too warm in my air conditioned office. I ask who gets to decide the limit on “fat-arm visibility?” Who decided that if you are over a certain size, you better at least put a shrug on the top – wouldn’t want anyone to see those soft, pillowy chunky upper arms. And yes – insert sarcasm here – best to hide them in a knit of some sort. I am freeing my arms from this restrictive and sizeist attitude. These are my arms – love em’ or leave em and in the meantime, I’ll be wearing something sleeveless as I enjoy this gorgeous summer.